Sins of the Saints
by AndThatWasEnough
Summary: "Just 'cuz someone smiles real easy and knows how to have a good time don't mean that they don't got a little bit of the Devil in 'em." Just because it isn't right doesn't mean he won't do it. Just because he knows she'll hate him if she finds out doesn't mean he won't take the risk. We all gotta do a little bad to get a lot good done. At least, that's how he justifies it.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Well, well. It has been a very long time! But, here I am, back on the horse. This time, I'm back with a companion piece to "Don't Think Twice", my last story starring Two-Bit Mathews and my OC, Bridget Stevens. You might want to read that to get some context, but it isn't necessary. The two of them are just calling to me again, but it's Two-Bit who wants to fill in some holes this time around…**

 **We'll start with the prologue. The chapters will get longer and more frequent, if you hit that review button…**

 **Happy reading!** **J**

XXXXX

What was it about Friday nights? Ah, yes. Sticky Friday nights in June; absolute bliss. It was hot as hell, if the sweat rolling down my neck was any indication, but who cares! It was the last damn thing on my mind, and I, without a care in the world, was sitting shotgun of one'a them VW Bugs, with a nice girl driving, chatting away about something or other.

I used to _hate_ this girl, I thought to myself. What the hell, man? She's one of the good ones. She's one of the real good ones.

Would this last forever? I thought to myself next. God only knows. No one knows how long anything will last. That's sobering to think about, which I guess is something I need.

It was easy to just sit here like this and not have to worry too much. This last year was too hard, just too difficult in every single way. I'm not exactly a guy who always like a challenge, either, so let's just say that I'm glad things are finally looking up.

Well, maybe they are. Maybe they aren't. Like I said, who knows? I'm asking too many damn questions, I know it; Lord, do I know it, but it seems I can't stop myself from doing that these days. I have a lot of people to blame for that, but I'm starting to think maybe it ain't such a bad thing that I'm not jumping into things right away these days, without thinking about it all. Yeah, I think that's actually a real good thing!

 _Kathy and I were never really an item. Were we? Hell if I know! But Lordy, she was fun. A firecracker. We got along fine when we weren't on the outs, when the other didn't have eyes on someone else, when we weren't sleeping with some other filthy grease. Isn't that sweet? Oh, sure it is. We had a thing going between each other, and it worked. It was us. The way we were was the way we were, and that's the way we was._

 _I didn't like sticking to one girl, anyway. It was exhausting._

 _"_ _Two-Bit, what is this shit? This is what you're bringing me? Buddy, this ain't near enough."_

 _I crossed my arms across my chest and started laughing at Tim. "Hooboy, Shep. I ain't your buddy, for starters. Second, what'd you expect? I need more time, Timmy!"_

 _Tim rolled his eyes. "I've given you time, Mathews. Plenty of time. I need this money! Why can't you just get a goddamn job like the rest of us?"_

 _"_ _Like you? Tim, this ain't a job! You call running a gang a job?"_

 _"_ _More of a job then whatever the hell it is you do. What is that again? Oh, yeah. Borrowing money from me, losing it, and then sitting around with your thumbs up your ass!"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "I'll get ya the fucking money, Shepard, if it's that important to ya."_

 _"_ _It is, dumbass!"_

 _"_ _Then you'll get it!" I grinned. "You trust me on this, now, you just give me a little more time, and you'll get it. More than that, even. Hell, Shep. I'll get ya a hundred more than yer asking for if you just give me what I'm asking for- and that's time."_

 _"_ _Time, time, time. Whatever, Mathews. Fine. If I don't get the dough in a month, you'll be wishing you were never born. And don't think you'll be able to talk yourself out of it, either."_

 _I smirked. I would be able to. I'd buy myself as much time as I needed. I had a plan already, anyways. It was just a matter of a little persuasion, a little time, and a little bit of the good ol' Two-Bit Mathews charm. It's what kept Kathy coming back, and it's what was making Bee Stevens fall for me without her even knowing it yet._

 _Yeah, I'd get what we all wanted._

I feel guilty now about the whole thing, of course, but there's not much I can do now to fix it. It's not like she'll ever know what it was that I did. She'll never know what it was all for. And why does she need to? That's right- she don't. What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Besides, I don't think she could handle it. Not in the way the girls I know could handle it. They get how it is. They get that sometimes you gotta play dirty to get what you want, and they've known that for a long time. You gotta play the game. It seems like the less you care, the better you are at it. Sylvia's good at it. The Shepards are real good at it. The Brumly Boys and all those real tough gangs know how it is. Dallas was real good at it, too. And I guess I must not care a whole lot, like all them, 'cuz I know exactly how to play it. Ain't like it's hard. It ain't. It's a matter of whether or not you're willin' to go to crazy lengths to get what you want. And if you know me- hell, ask anyone who does, and they'll tell you right off that I'm willing to do just about anything. Just 'cuz someone smiles real easy and knows how to have a good time don't mean that they don't got a little bit of the Devil in 'em.

Ah, but ya pity them, don't ya? You pull for 'em. We all got our reasons. Don't we all got our reasons. I'mma tell you my reasons. I'm gonna spell them out for you, the best way I know how.

This girl I'm sitting next to right now? She's a real good one.

But we all do bad things. All the sinners are saints.

All us sinners are saints.

Nature of the game, am I right?

XXXXX

 **AN: And so we begin again. The prologue is supposed to be sorta vague, but we'll get more into the plot as we go on. I can't wait to start this crazy ride again! Lemme know what ya think.** **J**


	2. Ya Got Trouble

**Author's Note: So I know this took a while, but I'm back. I'm not letting this one get away from me! Things were just crazy busy for a while.**

 **So, ready for chapter two?**

 **Happy reading! :)**

XXXXX

Tim Shepard is a fuck.

Okay, that's a really harsh way to start this, I realize that. But he is!

The Shepards have been a regular commodity in the city of Tulsa and the surrounding area for as long as I can remember. Royalty in a sense; top of the food chain in our east-side web of scum. Seems that they're everywhere, screwing with shit and stirring stuff up. Even Angel (ironic, man, 'cuz she's anything but) has been chewing up guys' hearts and spittin' 'em out since she was in middle school. But really, though, it's Tim and Curly you gotta watch out for. Mostly Tim. Curly is really his little crony, his doppelganger. They're brothers, but seeing Tim and Curly Shepard together don't exactly make me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. I don't even feel that way when I see the Curtis brothers together, but seeing those two together makes me a little wary.

We all get into trouble, but the Shepards? They _are_ trouble.

But who wants to talk about the Shepards, right? I don't wanna talk about the Shepards. Let's not talk about the Shepards, okay? Okay.

Let's talk about cars.

Steve and Soda are all about cars. I kinda am, too. Darry used to be. Pony is into them. So's Dallas and Johnny. The runts like to go fast, that's for sure. Before Soda got hurt, he used to be all about horses, but now he and Steve switch off in the driver's seat, and go up against anybody who wants to, anytime, anywhere. We'll be on the Strip, I'll be sitting in the back seat, working on a beer or chatting somebody up, when suddenly one of them will rev the engine…and we'll be off!

The car is crowded right now. I'm driving, Dallas is sitting next to me, and Steve, Soda, Pony, and Johnny are all crammed in the back. The amount of bitching coming from back there is immense. There's smoke everywhere, even with the windows completely rolled down, and it is _loud_! Christ, is it loud. I love it.

"Ponyboy Curtis, if you don't get your goddamn ass on your side and your feet right in goddamn front of you, I'll kick your ass! Dammit-"

"Steve, man, cool your jets! No one back here is comfortable, get off his ass, yeah?"

"You get off _my_ ass-"

"Could you guys cut it out?"

"Johnny, this is important."

"Not really."

Dallas gives me a cool look as he sucks on his cigarette. I raise an eyebrow at him. Dallas don't always say much. He doesn't have to. But he was about to just then, and nobody would question him.

"Y'all shut your asses up!" He bellowed. "God _damn_. You've got the worst damn driver in Tulsa at the wheel, the last thing you should be doing is distracting him!"

"Yeah!" I agreed cheerfully. "If y'all ain't careful, we'll all end up splattered across the road."

"And if that happened, Darry would bring us back to life just so he could kill us all over again," Pony deadpanned.

"Aw, Pone, Darry ain't no witch."

"He sure ain't," Steve said. "Witches are hot. Like Samantha. Darry ain't hot."

"A _men_ ," we chorused.

This was the last hurrah of the summer. School started tomorrow, and I was about to start junior year again. I should probably be graduated by now, but what's the fun in that? I like hanging around school. Ain't that funny? I don't know a whole lot of people who like school. Pony and Darry are good at school (though, what I remember from my days of schooling with Darry, is that there was a time there in high school where his mind was on a lot of other things, namely tits and football and beer). Steve is actually pretty good, too, when he wants to be. The rest of us? Naw. But that's fine! Soda knew he didn't like school, so he dropped out. Dallas knew it'd be a waste of his time, so he dropped out. Johnny does his best, so it's okay that he's been held back. Me? I just plain don't give a shit. I get my kicks in while I can until they kick me out. We'll wait and see if I graduate.

"Two-Bit- see that guy right there? See that car next to us?" Soda asked. He was practically leaning out the window. Steve growled.

"Aw, shit. Would ya lookit that. It's that fucker we saw at Buck's the other night. The one that got into a fight with Levon."

"Levon?" I repeated. "Shit! That pansy took on Levon Helm? That brick shithouse?"

"Ain't impossible," Dallas added smugly. "Helm is all talk."

I barked out a laugh. "Says you! To you, everyone is all talk. See, us sensible folk know that if you're gonna go toe-to-toe with somebody, the _last_ guy you should do it with is Helm."

Dally rolled his eyes. "You're all pussies. If you really wanna talk about hoods you shouldn't be fightin', you at least gotta mention that Gonzalez kid. He's tiny, and always packin' something."

"Aw, the Mexican Jumpin' Bean!" Soda laughed. "Gonzalez- you shittin' me? Just cuz he's always packin'…what? Piece of chain? Busted piece of pipe? That don't mean he's dangerous!"

Gonzalez-or, as Soda has christened him, the Mexican Jumping Bean-was some guy who'd crossed the border a few months back, and he already had hisself a rep. I'll admit, he was tough. But I have six inches and thirty pounds on him- a midget with a blade don't exactly scare me.

"You wanna race 'im?" I asked, referring back to the car next to us. Steve shook his head.

"Naw, get him to pull over there. In that parking lot in front'a that diner."

I signaled for him to pull over, and I put my car in park. Pony and Johnny sat in the back, looking worried.

"Soda, who is that guy? All of 'em are socs…" Ponyboy trailed off, giving Johnny a look. They knew that if Soda and Steve were gonna start a fight, Dallas would jump in, and then by that point, there was nothing stopping me, so they were probably discussing telepathically whether or not they'd join or just sneak off and do something else.

Soda, Steve, and Dally were already out of the car. Pony's observation had fallen on deaf ears, and I took this as my cue to exit. The boys were standing toe-to-toe, Steve and this big soc. Soda and Dally were right behind him. I came up and leaned against Soda and lit a cigarette.

"What's this?" I muttered, trying to keep quiet. Soda smiled at me.

"This guy didn't just take on Helm- had his eyes on Evie, too. We'll call this Steve defending his honor."

"Ah," I nodded.

I recognized a few of them. Some of them I'd played in poker or had seen around at school. They weren't nothing special. Not so notable. The guy who seemed to be the leader, the one Steve was eyeballing, was Daniel Humphrey. The guy backing him was George Washburn. Hooboy. Were they big! Not as big as Helm, but I was damn sure they'd be a blast to fight. Had a feeling we were about to anyway.

"You piece of shit," Steve growled. "You were clearly pretty stupid to take on Helm, but then you outdid yerself by hitting on my girl!"

"Think the broad liked it, Randle," Dan said lowly, smirking. "A glimpse of what she could have, ya know?"

That did Steve in. He narrowed his eyes, those caterpillars above his eyes wiggling all over. I shot a look to Dallas. He had a real dangerous smirk on his face. Things had been bad between the East and West in the past, but things were getting downright crazy these days, and I think Dally liked it. We briefly made eye contact, and he nodded real slightly at me. I winked back. Sodapop was getting into position to fight. This would be good. I think we needed this.

"Like you'd ever give it to her," Steve spat, threw the first punch, and with that, it was on.

That big lump, George Washburn, was at least six-four, and had the bright idea to go straight at me. We're built about the same, but he's the starting point guard, and I guess all those drills and weights made him a pretty decent fighter, cuz he could sure pack a punch. I was kinda seeing stars, to tell the truth, but I was holding my own. I started laughing at one point, when I was able to get a few good hits to his jaw, that crack sound real satisfying, and just the whole ordeal getting my adrenaline pumping and all that. This was good shit. Dallas looked to be having the time of his life, best I could tell. I wondered for a second what Pony and Johnny were doing, but that's before someone started shouting.

" _Cops_! Fuckin' cops are comin'! Get the hell outta here!"

Suddenly, I could hear the sirens, and I guess everyone else did too, cuz it's like everyone and everything just stopped and all we could hear were those cop cars. Who called the cops? Whoever it was, I wanted to give 'em an earful.

I could hear sirens in the distance, and I saw Dally perk up outta the corner of my eye. He couldn't get arrested again. Next time he did, he'd likely be in for a good long time.

"Shit!" He barked. He ran his hand through his hair. They were getting closer. He glared over at the other guys. "Y'all better get the fuck outta here if ya know what's good for ya!"

Soda and Steve were leaning on each other, trying to get back to the car. Steve spit some blood outta his mouth and climbed in the back. Pony and Johnny were still sitting there. The bitching has probably already commenced.

"Hey, you two!" Soda called to us. "Let's go! Two-Bit, get off yer ass, let's go! Yer driving!"

I hadn't even noticed I was on the ground. Dallas gave me a hand up, and I held my hand to my head, as if that would get it to stop spinning.

"Where you goin'?" I asked him, it coming out all slurred.

"Anywhere but here, man! I'mma go hunt up some real trouble," he said, and winked before he ran off. I got into the driver's seat and pulled out the back entrance off the diner just as the cops pulled up.

 _All that_ had actually happened real fast.

"Two-Bit! Darry's gonna kill me! When he hears the cops got called on us-"

"Hey, don't go blamin' Two-Bit," said Soda, sticking up for me. "It ain't his fault one bit."

"He's the one who ran off from the fuzz and dragged us with 'im!"

"We were still sittin' in the car when the whole thing started, Pone…"

Johnny sorta trailed of. Soda and Steve were quiet, and the three in the backseat, weren't saying much now. Soda watched them carefully in the rearview mirror.

"Two-Bit, why don'tcha just drop us each off at home? Pone, don't worry about Darry, okay? I'll make sure he don't get too mad. I'll tell him it's my fault, okay? Me and Steve's."

Steve snorted. "Don't go draggin' me into this."

"It was your own damn fault in the first place!" Pony squeaked.

"Kid, you don't know a damn thing about it-"

"Hey, cut it out you guys!" Johnny tried to get in between them, but when Steve and Pony start, it ain't exactly the easiest thing to get them to stop.

"'Ey!" I shouted, trying to sound all good-natured and relaxed in the situation. Soda and I were the goddamn sane ones, and they all knew it. "You heard Johnny, you two. Now, do I need to come back there and help you settle this like men, or do ya think you can work that out on your own?"

They didn't say nothing, but they quit fighting, which was good enough for all of us.

"You goin' home, Johnnycakes?" I asked, kinda hoping the answer was no. Johnny sighed a little, like he was thinking about it.

"Yeah, man, I guess. If it gets too bad, I'll just head to the lot or somethin'."

"You can come stay at our place, Johnny," Pony offered. Kid's always worried. Johnny shrugged.

"Naw, it's okay, Pone. Really. It ain't even cold at yet, and it's clear. Maybe I could see the stars or something. 'Sides, ain't Steve staying over?"

Steve snorted, and I could see him shaking his head in the rearview mirror. "Ain't the point, Johnny," he said softly, but in an already-quiet car, everyone heard. But everyone pretended not to.

I dropped Johnny off at his place, then headed on over to the Curtis's. They all chorused, "see ya, Two-Bits" at me and headed inside. Steve lingered for a sec at my window.

"Some last hurrah," he said, laughing a little. I laughed back harder.

"You can say that again. I'm all jacked up now. I can't head in yet. I'll see you guys later, tomorrow when I come get y'all," I told them through the window. Steve gave me a knowing smile.

"Gonna hunt up some trouble like Dally?"

I grinned. "Yeah. Different kind of trouble, I'm sure, but trouble all the same."

"Trouble is trouble is trouble."

"Damn straight it is."

Steve knocked on the hood of the car twice, and that was my signal to pull out. I had a game to attend. Hadn't told him that part. A smile crept across my face. Poker was more important than sleeping. Money was more important than school. That's what I've learned.

XXXXX

I don't like talking about that game much. For starts, it's boring to recap a card game, right? I think so, at least. Plus, I lost a lot of money that night. That's not exactly something I like to recap, either. Yeah, I'd been cheating, but that's not what lost the game for me. Sometimes, you just don't win. Ya know.

The first day of school is always kinda…I dunno, not fun, really, but I've always been a master at making my own fun at school, or just about anywhere else. That first day of school, 1966, I was hungover and sitting outside of the Curtis house, sunglasses on my face with a killer headache and the widest smile I could manage. I would lay on the horn to get all their attentions, but that would have been about a thousand times too loud. So after a few minutes of just sitting there, concentrating on not throwing up whatever the hell it was that was in my stomach all over my dash, I got out of the car and went inside.

"Y'all're being slow as shit. I've been sitting outside forever!"

Darry came breezing through the kitchen into the living room, carrying his tool belt and trying to put his shirt on at the same time. I don't see why he even bothers with the shirt. He just ends up taking it off anyways. It's too hot for layers, I think to myself, as I wear a once-white t-shirt and pilling flannel. And my jacket-my _leather_ jacket- was in the car. It was probably too hot out to grease my hair 'cuz that shit just ends up dripping, but I had done that, too.

"Quit whining, Two-Bit," he says easily. "Why do you care so much if you're late?"

"I don't care if we're late. If I show up here late so that we're all late, fine by me. But I don't wanna just sit around waiting for y'all."

"So it's okay if you're late, but not us?"

"Yeah."

Darry shrugged. "Whatever, Two-Shit."

"Aw, c'mon, Darry," I pouted. "Don't be like that. C'mon, be cool."

"You know I ain't cool."

And then he was out the door. Enter Sodapop, jeans on but fly down, and a piece of toast in his mouth. His shoes weren't on yet, but he seemed to be looking for them. He was working towards getting out the door. And I feel bad about this, but I hadn't noticed Ponyboy, and he had been sitting on the couch right in front of me, ready to go. Steve came in the door behind me.

"Two-Bit, you aren't making a very good door _or_ window right now. Get out of the way," Steve snapped.

"Quiet down, Steven," I said. "I've got a poorly head."

" _Pfft_. You mean you're hungover. Fantastic! Let's get going. Soda, what're you doing, man? What the hell…"

"Hey," I said. "Where's Johnny?"

"He already left," Pony piped in. "He just walked."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. He got sick of waiting."

I sighed. "Well, so am I! Pony, Steve, let's go!"

"See ya!" Soda called running past me and out the front door. I shook my head. That boy.

The drive over was loud, and that was sorta pissing me off, but I didn't want to be a buzzkill. They were just screwing around. Steve even seemed to be in okay spirits, so he was razzing Pony, and for once in his life, Pony was going with it. The kid has no sense of humor half the time. But today, he was being cool about it. Steve didn't hate him. He just pissed him off.

First period was boring as hell, per usual. The same books again, the same teacher. I smiled at her when she saw me. She didn't. Second period was American History- again. Mr. James- again. It was going to be an interesting year; I knew that already. Or, boring is more like it.

Okay, but! Everyone, prepare to meet the she-devil.

Oh, Bridget Stevens. That green-eyed, raven-haired socialite. I'd never seen this picture-perfect china doll before, and that was reason enough for me to get on her nerves. Nothing too serious. A bunch of minor, little things that would just piss her off just enough.

Jimmy Hopper was sitting next to me. He was a young up-and-comer in Shepard gang, a real straight-shooter. He pissed me off. He was still sixteen, but he acted like he'd been on the planet since before God. I'd had a couple run-ins with him over the summer, and I liked takin' him on in rumbles and all that. He wasn't a bad fighter, but he wasn't as good as me, and he was 'bout as dumb as a rock and mean as a Grizzly bear. I could handle him just fine.

I sat down and opened the one notebook I bothered to bring with me, and pulled my pencil out of the spiral binding. Mr. James had passed out some sort of syllabus (ain't that what it's called?) and was going over it. I was writing Jimmy notes.

 _That girl in front of me is new right?_

 _yeah. at least I think so. I've never seen her before._

Capitalize, dumbass.

 _Seems socy._

 _I think she is. she looked at me weird like I was stupid or something._

 _You are. Don't take it too personal, everyone thinks that. Anyways, watch this._

I kinda just wanted to bug her, ya know? The new kids are always fun to pick on. I didn't mean any real harm, but the broad couldn't keep her trap shut! I make my own fun, remember? How was I s'posed to do that with her in my way? I couldn't.

But I didn't exactly care, ya know.

Jimmy and I had a grand old time back there, making little paper footballs and flickin' 'em. I snapped my gum _hard_ , just enough so she could hear. And every time she turned around, she'd give me this little onceover, and her frown would get deeper. But, man, I'd just smile bigger, scratch my sideburns. Then she'd turn back around, and I'd tap her shoulder so she'd turn back around, or tap her chair. Missy Redar, the pretty blonde thing next to her, was looking over now and then, too, but I didn't care about her. I knew her. Didn't know this one!

"Would you stop?" she hissed at me, real quiet.

"Stop what?" I asked, playing innocent. I knew what I was doing was working.

"Being a nuisance," she spat.

Well, if that doesn't put a smile on my face…"I'm afraid that's a bit too vague for my liking. When you have a better answer, I'd be more than happy to listen."

I had to be difficult with her. I had no other choice. She just asked, _begged,_ for it. Something about those innocent, nervous green eyes. Something about the way she dressed, that said she tried and _probably_ belonged, but she didn't think so. She was trying so hard.

"Well, how about you at least stop smiling at me every time I turn around? Could you at least do that?" she asked. She was trying to regain control of herself. That would be impossible. I shook my head happily.

"Honey, don't blame me for bein' a happy guy. Just stop turning around!" I suggested, grinning still.

She narrowed her eyes at me. "What's your name?" She asked me slowly.

I shook my head and smirked. "Two-Bit Mathews," I told her proudly. She scoffed.

"As if." She rolled her eyes. A lot of people around us were chatting about something or other. Mr. James doesn't have a whole lot to say on the first day. No one even paid attention to the two of us.

"What's yours?" I asked kindly, trying not to laugh. She rolled her eyes again, they'd roll back into her brain.

"Bridget Stevens," she said simply. I noticed a little gap between her front two teeth.

"That's a right pretty name," I told her.

She rolled her eyes _again_ , and that's when I knew she'd really given up. She turned to Missy Redar, and they started saying something or other about me, but I didn't care. I was impossible to handle, I know it. I think some people like that impossibility. That day, Bridget didn't. I guess I can understand that. Girls like that don't have a sense of humor, especially not about themselves. They're all about driving their nice cars and going on ski trips and sweet-talking mommy and daddy into letting them go out on a school night. She was probably a good student that did all her homework on time. She would probably get a "nice" boyfriend, one that I would meet one night at Brookie's or Buck's or the Strip, feeling up a not-so-nice but heavily endowed girl, and then I'd kick his ass. Cuz guys like that just ask for it. I ask for it, too, I know it. But at least I don't go around pretending that I don't.

XXXXX

 **AN: Finally! Chapter Two! Updates are gonna come more quickly now, I promise. I'm loving writing these two again, and I've just about finished the outline for this story, and I'm very excited!**

 **If you enjoyed, fave, follow, or review! Reviews are my drug, if you haven't noticed. :)**


	3. What A Wonderful World

**Author's Note: Hey again. Chapter three, comin' at'cha! Kinda late...yeah. Sorry about that! Hopefully, updates will come faster. I say that all the time, but this time I mean it cuz school ends in a little over a week, so I'll have a lot more time to work on this. I want to thank you guys for your continued support and interest, though. Keeps me going!**

 **I'd say we're already almost through our exposition. Then it's all uphill for all of us. ;)**

 **Happy reading!**

XXXXX

"You're a dumbass, you know that? A fuckin' dumbass. You lost _how much_ money?"

This was Kathy talking. Meet Kathy: blonde, perky, Kathy, and when I saw perky, I ain't talking about her personality. In fact, Kathy don't got much of a personality if you ask me. She was pretty boring before I came into her life. Her dad's some preacher on our side of town, I don't know where, don't ask, and she was real involved in the church before she met me. We met a couple years ago, at school, cuz she didn't go to parties back then. Let's just say I converted her. But, ya know, even when she was still a PK and a real goody-two-shoes, she was _mean._ She's always been kinda mean.

"Two-fifty," I told her. I had my sunglasses pulled down over my eyes and wasn't even looking at her. I could see her big bouffant in my peripheral vision anyway.

"Two-fifty," she repeated. "You dumbass."

"So you've said."

"Aw, shut up."

Would you believe we were on a date? Cuz I can't.

"Why's it matter to you anyhow? Ain't like you'll be seein' a cent of that two-fifty," I told her. "Or any of my money, for that matter."

She scoffed. "Like it's even your money. You haven't worked a day in your life, Two-Bit. How you gonna pay that off anyway?"

"I'll think of something."

"Which means you're just gonna borrow money, right? You're gonna take another loan from somebody, and then you'll just be in the hole with them." I could picture the sarcastic smile on her face. "You're stuck in this…this _cycle_ because you're so damn lazy! You need a fuckin' job, Two-Bit."

She was snapping her gum pretty hard. When I was a kid, we called people who did that "gum-snappers." Not real creative, but it brought up some memories. I could picture them all, when we were just a bunch of ankle-biters. Or maybe it really wasn't all that long ago. I remember Darry calling a girl I used to be sweet on, Vickie Harper, a gum-snapper. Yeah. We're not a creative bunch. But I can picture her, in her sweet little braids and plaid skirts and cashmere sweaters, smackin' her lips really hard and cackling, usually in my direction. I think I saw that Bridget Stevens girl hanging around with her. That can't be good news.

"Hey! Earth to Two-Bit! Where'd ya go?"

Where did I go? I was in the car the whole time, Kath. Where've you been?

"Hell if I know. C'mon, quit yappin'. We're gonna be late if you keep distracting me."

We got quiet, and then I just drove us over to the Dingo, where we were-get this!- on a _triple date._ Good grief. I really don't need that in my life. I mean, me, Soda, and Steve. Kathy, Sandy, and Evie. That's too many people to consider it a date. It's like a get-together, or something. I don't know. Quit looking at me like that. I don't even know what I'm saying, okay? Don't give me that _look._

The Dingo is definitely a grease hangout. I don't think I've ever seen a soc come this far into our territory before. Which don't bother us none. I don't exactly want to be fighting _all_ the time. Which you wouldn't be able to tell by the female company I keep, but ya know. Steve and Evie. Two-Bit and Kathy. Dallas and Sylvia. It's the natural order of things, ya dig, for us to be together. We ain't really "together", but I ain't telling her that.

Sodapop and Steve were already sitting in a booth when we got there. No sign of Sandy and Evie. The place was about as you'd expect for a Friday night: loud, dimly lit, and smelling like French fries and hamburgers. It's the kind of place you like to spend your evenings at, until someone pulls out a blade or the cops come or whatever.

"How nice of you two to finally show!" Steve growled. "Evie and Sandy were wonderin' if you'd ever come."

"Shuddup, Steve," Kathy spat. "They in the back?"

Steve nodded his head, and Kathy was off. So much for this date.

I slid into the booth and started away on the basket of fries in the middle of the table. Soda was all smiles in his seat, not saying anything. I gave him and then Steve a look, telepathically asking just what the hell was up with him.

"He's 'boutta burst over Sandy," Steve told me. "The girl's 'bout as fragile-looking as a china doll, if you ask me."

"We all have different taste, Steven!" Soda finally chimed in. "Not all of us like girls who file their nails sharp enough to stab a man."

"Not practical," I added. "Imagine the sex with a gal like _that."_

"Imagine the hand jobs," Soda said conspiratorially. "Girl could chop your dick off."

"Jesus Christ, Soda!" Steve yelled.

"What, has Evie chopped _your_ dick off with her razor-sharp fingernails?"

Soda and I laughed as Steve slumped down in the booth. "Oh, fuck you two."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "C'mon back up for air, Randle."

Steve came back up.

"So where is this mystery girl?" I asked Soda. "When am I gonna meet her?"

"In the back with the others, dumbass," Steve grumbled. Soda popped him in the arm and grabbed a handful of fries.

"She should be out here in a minute. God knows what those girls do back there when they're together."

"Nothing we want to know about, I'm sure."

So we sat around for a while waiting on the girls, and it was at least ten minutes before they came out. Sandy was standing between Kathy and Evie, who had clearly decided to take her under their wing. All the girls of the guys in our gang seem to form this strange little coalition where none of us can tell if they're _really_ friends, but they sure make it seem that way. Sandy was of your average female measurements, had long blonde hair, blue eyes, kinda pale. I'd seen her around before. I like my blondes, but she was a bit too…she just wasn't my type, is what I'm trying to say.

"What were you ladies talking about for so long?" I grinned as they slid into the booth. "Hopefully nothing too incriminating 'bout us boys out here."

"Nothing like that," Evie said, her voice smooth as silk. "We was just talking about that new girl. The soc girl, Bridget Stevens. We have English together."

"I think I know her," Sandy chimed in. "We have calculus together. She's real good-looking."

"Bridget Stevens?" Soda repeated. "What she look like?"

"Oh, your typical soc," Kathy began. "She's got huge black hair, like, _huge._ She doesn't even style it."

"How could she?" Evie asked. "I don't think she could even begin to tame all that hair."

"Right? And she's got big green eyes-like a cow!- and real fair skin. Heard some guy call her Snow White the other day, but I don't think he meant it real well," Sandy said.

"Y'all sound jealous of her," I drawled, knowing exactly where this was going. Every time some new girl came to town, the girls loved to dissect them as much as they could, and it all boiled down to one reason: usually, the girl was prettier, or richer, or smarter, or more talented, so they found every little thing they could to make sure she didn't get what she wanted. It was easier to do with other gals from our side of town, but that didn't stop them from trying.

"No we ain't, Two-Bit," Kathy spat. "We don't care about her money-"

"I ain't talking about her money, Kath."

The table got quiet. Why was Bridget Stevens _really_ a topic of discussion? We were supposed to be meeting Sandy, hanging out, having a good time. I didn't want to talk about this girl.

"Think I have seen her before," Soda said, looking like he was thinking real hard. "Yeah, she stopped by the DX a couple times, before school started. Has a sweet ride."

"Wait- the white T-Bird?" Steve asked. Soda nodded.

"Yeah, that one."

"Well, if that's the one I'm thinking of, then she is good-lookin'. Not as good as you though, Eve," he added once he saw the look Evie shot him.

"Right," Soda covered quickly. "She's good-lookin', but y'all are something else."

It felt like everyone was waiting for me to say something along those lines to Kathy, but I just shrugged.

"Yeah. Black-haired girls like her aren't really my type."

Which was about as close as I was gonna get to telling Kathy I thought Bridget Stevens didn't hold a candle to her, but if I'm being honest, Stevens _was_ prettier, and I think Steve and Soda knew that, too. I noticed Kathy glaring at me out of the corner of my eye, and Evie and Sandy were watching her. Soda and Steve just knew that Kathy wasn't exactly doing it for me anymore.

XXXXX

"You goin' all in, Mathews?"

Matt Watson was giving me a dangerous smile. It occurred to me, as I looked at him in all his slick hair, button-down glory, that he shouldn't be here. Buck's was no place for a guy like him. He was slumming. I hate when those big-time socs come to our side of town, hang out in our scummy wasteland, pretend it's dangerous, and then go about their merry way and spit on guys like me. But right now, we was just playing poker.

"All in, Watson," I said around my cigarette. The air in the room was blue. He wasn't smoking. But all us other guys were. All I knew was that he had a beer sitting in front of him and a flask in his jacket pocket. I also knew for a fact that Watson couldn't hold his liquor. I smiled back at him. I like to think mine looked scarier.

It was about that time. I laid out my cards, and my grin grew. "Full house!" I sang. Even played this one honest.

Matt looked at my cards carefully. He didn't say anything for a long time, and then took his flask out of his pocket and took a drink. Put it back in his pocket. I had him, didn't I?

"Good hand," he told me. "Really, Mathews. And ya didn't even cheat," he said, sounding impressed. I had him.

"But…" he laid out his cards opposite mine on the table. "Not as good as mine. Straight flush, greaser."

My stomach sank. That was another hundred bucks. Gone. I took a drag off my cigarette and dragged my free hand across my mouth. I couldn't even look him in the eye.

"You son of a bitch," I muttered. "Well, fuck you too, Watson."

He laughed. "Pay up, dumbass."

Do I need to say how embarrassing this was? It wasn't just the two of us in that room. I was at Buck's surrounded by guys I'd never met and a few I had, and now I had just lost a hand in poker and I had to pay this rich dipshit a hundred dollars he didn't need and it was just all too fucking much and god, Kathy would be pissed, everyone would be _pissed_ , how could I be this stupid, why did I keep doing this, holy hell do I need a job, how am I ever gonna become a respectable adult if I kept throwing away my money, holy, holy _shit._

I smiled at Watson. "Double or nothin'?" I tried.

Watson eyed me carefully for a minute, and took another drink from his flask. If I got the bastard drunk enough, it was totally possible I could get away with this. He was already starting to gloss over, and I'd be damned if this evening didn't end in bloodshed. Hell, was it even evening anymore? I looked out the window and saw pitch black. Even though summer was ending, the sun was still up fairly late, so if it was that dark, I knew I had been there for a while. Probably too long.

"Fine. Double or nothin'. And when I beat you again-"

"Fat chance, pretty boy."

" _And when I beat you again,_ " he repeated dangerously, "you'll hafta pay up, Mathews. Two-hundred. And no weaseling out of it either!"

I kept the stupid grin on my face and stuck my cigarette back in my mouth. "I'll deal," I muttered around it.

XXXXX

I stumbled into the house pretty late, not so sure when. Sometime early Sunday morning. 'Bout the same time my mother got home from working the late shift at this truck stop on the edge of the city. No rest for the wicked, I suppose.

I tried to be quiet, though, I really did. But it seems that maybe I was a little louder than I intended, cuz Mom came out of the kitchen with this wicked look on her face and her hands crossed over her chest. I was half a foot taller than her and could knock her over real easy, but one, she's my mom, why in god's name would I do that? And two, she looks pretty goddamn intimidating right now, and I know I'm in for it.

"You left your sister home alone _all night_. You're s'posed to get home before I leave, boy."

"I know, ma."

I breezed past her into the kitchen, rooting around the cabinets and fridge for something halfway edible.

"What were you doing, Keith? What in God's name could be so important that you left Sadie _alone?"_

I stuffed a piece of bread into my mouth. I was stalling. She knew it. I chewed on it for a good minute before I swallowed it, then smiled at her.

"Makin' money, same as you."

I stuffed my hand in my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, my smile growing even bigger. Two-hundred big ones, courtesy of Matt Watson.

Mom stared at the cash in my hand like she was real conflicted about it. On the one hand, she knew I ain't got no job and that there was no way I'd gotten it one-hundred percent honest. On the other hand, we needed the money, and I usually give at least part of what I win to her. I've been on a losing streak lately, but she don't need to know that.

"I can give you all of it," I told her. "Really."

I also didn't want to tell her that I kinda needed it to pay off the ever-growing hole I've dug for myself, so I kept my trap shut.

"How much is it?" She asked carefully. She was trying to look like she didn't want it, but I knew she did. Knew she _needed_ it. Knew _we_ needed it. Everybody in this neighborhood is dirt-poor. Two hundred dollars is nothing to take lightly. I cocked an eyebrow at her. She was pulling at her fingers and biting her bottom lip and I just knew she was gonna take it, and I knew I was gonna give it to her.

"Two hundred," I told her.

"Could pay for a lot."

"I know it could, ma. Take it. Really! I insist."

I walked over and placed the folded bills into her hand, and she just sorta stared down at them as they sat in her palm. I watched her for a second before heading out the kitchen door.

"I'm gonna hit it," I said easily, knowing that would get me back in her good graces. At least for now. "Sorry 'bout Sadie. I'll see her when she wakes up. Then prolly head over to the Curtis' for a bit. I'll be back for dinner though." Mom makes dinner Sunday nights. I try to be home for it. It means a lot to her.

"Alright," was all she said. We didn't even acknowledge each other as I slipped back to my room.

XXXXX

Junior year the second time around was crawling by. It was getting harder and harder to pay attention this time. I feel like I knew this stuff, but I'd just _heard_ it before. I had no fucking clue what was going on. Which was fine by me!

And then there's that girl.

She told me on September eighteenth. I was surprised she even had an answer. I didn't even remember asking a question. Bridget Stevens just whipped around in her seat when we were workin' on some group thing and said,

"I have a better answer for you."

"A better answer for what?" I asked, not even really thinking about it. Jimmy eyed me for a second, and then went back to cleaning his nails.

"I have a better reason for wanting you to leave me alone."

I raised an eyebrow. I kinda sorta vaguely remembered something about telling her she needed to, uh, come up with a better reason for me to leave her alone the other day. And now she had an answer. Sweet Jesus. I figured I'd just go along with it, so I sat back in my chair and smiled at her.

"Let's hear it then!"

She gave me an odd little look, then soldiered on. "Well, I realized that, well, I'm so _used_ to being, um, _alone-_ I'm an only child, ya know- that having a distraction like _you_ around is, well-"

"Distracting?" I supplied.

"Foreign, was more the word I was looking for."

I raised an eyebrow at her, and before I knew what I was doing, I was laughing at her. Hard. I smacked Jimmy's upper arm to get him in on the action.

"Can you believe this chick?" I asked him, though he looked confused as all get-out. "Can you _believe_ her?" I looked back at her. "I suggest you get off your high horse, honey."

She frowned, and looked down at her feet. I leaned closer to get her attention back.

"Lemme give you a suggestion," I continued. Just back off, and we'll be fine. Don't make me do anything stupid, peach."

Bridget narrowed her eyes at me. "Don't call me that," she whispered.

"Call you what?"

"Peach. Or honey. I'm neither of those things to you."

Ouch. "Then what should I call you, huh? Lemme see…Bridget, right? B-R-I-D-G-E-T…B, b, b…Ah! That's it! Bee. That's it. You're like an angry little honey bee, buzzing around and annoying me."

And it all rhymed. I sat back, pleased with myself, and all she could do was open her mouth and then shut it right back up.

I win.

XXXXX

 **A/N: So there's chapter three! Sorry for the wait. Are you guys seeing the overlaps between the two stories? It's been fun to write all this from a different perspective.**

 **Reviews are my drug. :)**


	4. Twist and Shout

**Author's Note: I'm sorry. It's been forever! But I'm back, and I mean it! That's all I'm gonna say.**

 **Actually, this was my NaNoWrimo Novel this past year, so expect some…** ** _more_** **frequent updates!**

 **HappierThanMost- thank you for the encouragement!**

 **Happy reading. :)**

XXXXX

"Keith Mathews!"

I should probably formally introduce my mother. Maria Mathews is probably the toughest lady I know, not going to lie. She's put up with a lot of shit in her life, and that's what made her that way. But god, she's easy on me. She's a tough lady, but she's…she's sweet. She's sweeter than most moms on this side of town. She's as nice a lady as Mrs. Curtis was. Ma gets a lot of shit cuz she doesn't have great English. I mean, she actually can speak it pretty well, but it's kinda broken and her accent is still kinda thick. She came over from Italy, met my old man, and the rest is history.

" _Ma_ , what is it?" I sounded whiny. I kept trying to remind myself that I'm a grown-ass man, but your mother can rip all that away from you real quick if her tone's just right.

She stood in front of the front door, which is exactly where I was headed. "You are not going out tonight," she commanded. I sighed.

"Why not?"

"Because you are always _com_ ing and _go_ ing, and tonight you are not going to. You are going to stay here. We're having dinner."

I raised an eyebrow. "Gee, ma. All you had to do was ask. I woulda said yes."

She gave me a Look. "That's funny. You are staying. Go sit."

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to hang around with my ma and little sister like some namby-pamby Boy Scout, but she wasn't moving and I knew she wouldn't until she got her way, and the thought of the two of us staring daggers at each other all night wasn't an appealing thought, so I went back into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Sadie was already sitting there, legs swinging back and forth because her feet couldn't touch the floor yet. Sadie's nine. She has the same red hair that I do, and hers is long and curly. She's…difficult. But she gives ma less trouble than I do, and I dunno. She's a cute kid.

Mom came into the kitchen, smiled at me triumphantly, and went about finishing dinner. "Talk to you sister about her day."

Sadie lit up. "Yeah! Okay, so at school today, we decorated these little mini pumpkins for Halloween, and I put glitter and pink paint on mine."

"What, you didn't make a jack-o-lantern? No scary faces?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Not even like this?" I contorted my face, making her laugh.

"No, definitely not like _that_. That's stupid."

"'Stupid' is a horrible word," mom said, placing the last of the dishes on the table, then smoothing her skirt underneath her and sitting down. Sadie looked at her like she was nuts.

"You call the paperboy stupid all the time! When he just throws our paper at the fence instead of the door!"

"I say it in a language he cannot understand."

" _Mom,_ " she drawled, "it's just 'stupid' with an 'o.'"

"Enough of this!" Mom demanded, not unkindly. "This is not dinner discussion. We are going to talk about _normal_ things. Sadie, you will tell about your pumpkins, and Keith, you will…talk about whatever it is you talk about."

I thought for a sec before coming up with something that seems to just about always be on my mind. "There's a new girl at school."

Mom actually looked interested. "Oh? What is her name? Is she the new bag girl at the grocery store? I don't like her- she is too slow."

I rolled my eyes. "No, mother. She's not the new bag girl."

"Then she is new in the neighborhood," she said, like she'd figured it out. "I will go meet her parents."

" _No_ , mom. She doesn't live in this neighborhood. She lives on the other side of town. Her name is Bee- I mean, Bridget Stevens."

"I see. So she is a nice girl?"

I shrugged. Wasn't really the word I was looking for, but this was my mother and sister I was talking to. "I guess. I don't really know her. I only have the one class with her."

"She is pretty?"

I almost spit out everything in my mouth right into Sadie's face. Is she _pretty?_ Well, I mean, that night at the Dingo, the guys and I kinda acknowledged that yeah, she was, but I hadn't _really_ thought about it. So I thought about it for a moment, and once you got past the huge hair, yeah. I guess she was pretty. Though, I could imagine Soda going for her more than me, but neither of us ever will. And I certainly don't want to- I can't speak for Sodapop.

"Well, I dunno, ma. I guess she is."

"'I guess, I guess,'" Ma repeated, smiling a little. "Seems you don't know this girl at all." Well, I really _didn't-_ "but you will get to know her because she needs friends."

"I don't think I'm exactly the kind of guy she wants to be friends with."

"Nonsense! You can be a very nice boy when you want to be. You be nice to her, and she will thank you for it."

"Teacher says that all you have to do is be nice to someone, and they will want to be your friend. And then you start a conversation with them about something simple like the weather or something you saw on TV, and then you talk, and then you become friends. I did all that with Janie, and now we're best friends."

I chewed on my grilled cheese thoughtfully and smiled at her. "That so?"

"Yep! It's that easy."

Sure, for a kid. A kid that doesn't know anything about turf wars or relationships or anything, really.

I helped mom clean up after dinner cuz I figured I owed her for all the shit I've caused over my life, and that maybe helping her do the dishes would make up for eighteen years of bumming around. She seemed glad I was there.

"I am glad you stayed tonight," she confided, leaning in and smiling at me. She was about a head shorter than me, so she had to look up. I smiled back at her.

"Yeah, ma. No problem."

"You should always spend time with family," she continued, going back to the washing. "Family is the most important thing there is."

"Yeah?"

"Ye-ah," she said, the word sounding awkward and clunky in her mouth, even after nineteen years in the country. Like I said, she was _pretty_ easy to understand, but she slipped in and out. "Keith?"

"Yeah, mom."

"You would tell me if this girl becomes your friend, right? Because besides your family, it is important to have friends."

"She has friends, you know. She isn't lonely," I speculated. I mean, she had friends.

"You are lucky to have many good friends, even if that Dallas boy is trouble. Not everyone is so lucky. You remember that even though we don't have much, you have your family and your friends, and many men go through life alone. So you are luckier than most."

I don't know why she told me all this, but she was, and she was sincere. And I'm not a crier, and I'm not lying when I say that I didn't even come close during her little speech of stilted English and her rich Italian accent, but I knew she was right.

"Alright, mom. I'll let you know if we become friends."

"And you must try to be her friend."

"I'll try. I promise."

XXXXX

 _I'm dying in here. Of boredom. -Missy_

 _So am I. I don't really care too much about trade and etc.-Bridget_

 _Two-Bit Mathews hasn't been bothering you too much, has he?-Missy_

 _Sometimes. He just says stupid stuff to me and is just plain annoying. Why? -Bridget_

 _No reason really. I've just heard that greasers can be sorta nasty, saying suggestive things and all that. A greaser did that to me last year, and Vickie was pissed as all get-out. -Missy_

 _Nothing like that. He keeps calling me "Bee" and making buzzing noises in my ear because he thinks I annoy HIM. Quite the opposite. -Bridget_

 _Just do your best to ignore him. He's just doing it because he can. He wants to get a rise out of you, and quite frankly, it's working. -Missy_

 _No it is not! -Bridget_

 _Exactly my point. -Missy_

 _I don't get it. What did I do? It's not like I really did anything to him...just asked him to quit being so obnoxious! But god, is he annoying. I'm getting sick of it. I'm sick of him pulling on my curls and calling me a worker bee and...Ugh. -Bridget_

 _I dunno. That's just what they do. I didn't make up the rules, but I guess he just sees you as a target. I dunno. –Missy_

 _My stomach felt kinda funny. I shouldn't go digging around for things I don't wanna know about. But you see two chicks passing a note back and forth, the whole time looking between you and the other, giggling, you know it ain't good, so I had to read it. And_ _what_ _a read! I_ _know_ _I ain't a good guy, but it feels weird to see it in writing. I_ _know_ _I annoy her. And I thought it was kinda funny that other people were noticing it was working. But it was all harmless, wasn't it? I just kinda teased her a little._

 _So I wrote her a little note of her own, just to fuck with her, ya know? Play with her mind a little. (And glory, do I know a lot about mind games. Esepcially by now.) And then I chased her down._

"'Ey! Bee Stevens!" I called. She slowly turned around.

"What?" She asked through gritted teeth. I just smiled.

"You left this behind. Thought you might like it back."

I held out the piece of paper to her, then I went on my way.

 _What the hell did I ever_ _really_ _do to you? -Two-Bit_ _was what I'd written._

It kinda left a pit in my stomach, and I think that's how I started figuring it out.

XXXXX

"I fucking _hate_ her, man," I slurred. I took another pull from the bottle hidden in the brown paper bag, but it wasn't like hiding it made much of a difference. I was sloshed.

"Hate who, man?" Jimmy asked, also on his way to being completely wasted.

"Bridget Stevens," I sighed. "Fuckin' bitch."

"You barely even know her, man."

"Don't matter. Still hate her."

"I think she's good-lookin'."

I shrugged. "Bein' good-lookin' don't have anything to do with it."

Where were we? We were on our way to a shitty dive bar called Brookie's, a place where I am considered a regular. Which probably isn't a good thing, but it's not like I care that much. And why was I with Jimmy Hopper? Good question. I don't have an answer for it. Sorry.

"I think it has a little to do with it," he said. "I mean, just cuz she's a bitch doesn't mean I don't wanna fuck 'er."

"That's disgusting, Jimmy."

"Oh, don't play the goddamn saint! I know you was thinkin' it."

"I wasn't!" I laughed. "God _damn,_ no!"

"Don't tell me you liked every gal you've ever banged."

I shrugged. "I mean, it ain't like I _loved_ 'em. But I could put up with 'em."

Jimmy considered it. We were quiet the rest of the way to the bar, just passing the brown bag back and forth between us as we made our way down the sidewalk and pushed and shouldered our way to the bar and sat down.

"So you don't mind?"

I looked at him funny. "Don't mind what?"

"Don't mind if I ask her out."

I raised an eyebrow. "'Ask her out', huh? Sounds like you've got real good intentions. You just wanna bang her."

"So?"

"So she's a nice girl," I told him, contradicting myself. "Last I checked, nice girls weren't exactly your type. Forget her bein' _pretty,_ " I sang, trying to really get on his nerves. "And, yeesh, man, she's probably never even done it before."

Jimmy shrugged. "Then I'd love to be the guy to pop her cherry!" He elbowed my side. When I didn't laugh, his smile faltered and he shrunk back. "I was just kidding, Two-Bit. God, what's got you all sore?"

"Nothing!" I laughed, trying to lighten the mood back up. "Look, man, I'm just trying to tell you that you aren't going to get anywhere with her, so why even try?"

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at me. Like I said, that guy is a mean, scary sonuvabitch when he wants to be, and just then, he was giving Dallas a run for his money. I waved down the bartender to bring us a couple Budweisers. "I bet I can. It'll take some doin'-"

"Yeah, cuz you've got the patience of a saint."

"And she'll say yes. I know she will." He looked me over. "Man. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were the one wantin' to ask her out, not me."

I snorted and shook my head. "Nah, man. You got me all wrong. She'd have to dye her hair first."

XXXXX

Jimmy Hopper musta really wanted to fuck Bee Stevens. Must have been real torture for him, having to sit behind her in class, with a view of her face and _everything!_ Sure. Try sitting behind her. Can't see anything past all that hair. Real pleasure to have in class, from what I heard. Bit of a teacher's pet. Steve's girl, Evie, had English with her, and wanted nothin' to do with her.

"As if being loaded wasn't enough, just having it all, she has to go and be just like the rest of them," she told us. We were hanging around the DX one slow day while Soda and Steve worked, and she was telling us all about this situation she'd had in class with her. "Do y'all think I'm vulgar?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want to hear the answer to, Eve," Steve told her, counting the money in the cash register. I'd just paid him for my third Coke that afternoon. She huffed, so I took it upon myself to answer her.

"Miss Evie, _of course_ you're vulgar! It's what makes you so endearing to poor Steven here, who came out of the womb beggin' for his mother's tit."

"Jesus, Two-Bit!" Steve yelped, but Evie was laughing real hard. "Evie, what do you care if you're vulgar or not? Everybody swears at one point or another." As if to prove his point, Soda dropped something back in the garage, and started cursing loud enough for all of us to hear up front. Steve rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.

"Well, that's what she said! We were readin' some book, and someone was saying that the main guy swore too much. And then _I_ said that I didn't mind it, and Stevens gets up the nerve to say I'm just as 'uncouth' as someone who don't even exist."

"'Uncouth'?" I repeated. "Damn. Pullin' out the four-dollar words."

Evie shook her head. "If she weren't so pretty and her dad weren't so rich, ya know, I don't think they'd like her either. She and I ain't so different. I know it. But she thinks she's better than me, and that's enough of a reason for me to not like her." And she shrugged, like it was all that simple.

It wasn't all that simple. And I learned that pretty early on. Maybe I would learn a few things in school this year.

Anyway. Jimmy wanted to have sex with Bee Stevens. How had that nickname become so widespread? Everyone was using it now. He used it the day in class he leaned forward and asked her out, as I watched on.

"Yer a real pretty gal, ya know that Bee Stevens? Real pretty. Whaddya say to me and you gettin' together sometime?"

"No thanks, Jimmy," she mumbled

"It's a serious offer," he continued, ignoring what she'd said. "Really. C'mon, it ain't like you got any other guys offerin'. C'mon, Stevens. Whaddya say? You an' me."

"I'd really rather not, Jimmy," she repeated. "Thank you, but no."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair and stared at her. Girls didn't like Jimmy. I mean, the guy was a Grade-A asshole, a real mean sonuvabitch, and I couldn't blame Bee for not liking what he was doing. But…hell, I dunno if I thought she deserved it or not. Jimmy leaned back up.

"Ya know what they say about you, Stevens?" He continued, sounding angry now. "That you're just a no-good bitch, a hanger-on. Those socs don't want any part of ya. No one likes a gal that can't keep her mouth shut, not even _Tulsa's elite_."

Well, I wan't sure about _that._ But she didn't say anything. Usually, a real popular soc gal can stick up to this sort of shit. She has that confidence. I was learning pretty quick that Stevens…she didn't have that. She wasn't a real confident gal. She was new, and Jimmy and I both knew she was easy prey, and we was taking advantage of that. Which prolly wasn't fair, but ain't that the way it's supposed to be? Us greasers pick on their gals, their guys get in fights with us; that's just how it is.

But she just sat there, and man, I'd be lying if I didn't say it was weird. And kinda sad. And kinda pissing me off, cuz that's just not the way it's s'posed to be! Jimmy got a real scary look on his face and looked at me.

"See, she ain't denying it, Two-Bit. Back me up, man."

What the hell? Back him up? Yeah, what Evie had told me about her and Stevens was prolly true. Maybe she was more confident around the other girls than us East-side guys, maybe _any_ guy, but hell, getting in a cat fight was different than her getting involved with a member of the _Shepard gang._ A girl like her is _not_ supposed to get caught up in gang shit. No. That's not how it fucking worked! And if she got involved with Jimmy Hopper in any way-and I mean _any_ way, whether she's for it or not-she'd sure as hell stir up some shit. Even more shit, considering the way things been going. But god, I must be some sort of pussy, and Lord knows I'm already going to Hell, so as I was sitting there on my ass, floundering, I just stammered out:

"Well I s'pose so, Jimmy. I mean, I heard what she's been saying to Eve an' all..."

"C'mon, man!" Jimmy prodded. "C'mon, you told me more than that! I know ya have, I know what you really think, Mathews. Are you gonna tell her, or should I tell her myself?"

"Bridget!" Missy suddenly hissed at her. "Stop them! Tell Mr. James!"

I kinda felt sick to my stomach. This was _school_ , not the drive-in or Buck's or some crappy dive. And he was getting louder…aw, hell, this wasn't gonna end well, was it?

"Jimmy, just shuddup, will ya?" I said. I really wasn't in the mood for this shit. "Just drop the damn thing."

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at me. I stared right back at him, daring him to challenge me. He couldn't take me. That fucker couldn't take me. He was a fucking coward, just like me, but for half a second there, all I wanted was for him to leave Stevens alone. So I was fucking _livid_ when he turned to her and said:

"He hates ya, Bee Stevens. He really hates ya!"

And then the whole class had their eyes on us. The four of us. Fuck, I didn't need this. I didn't need one second of this…

"Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Hopper?" Mr. James asked, slowly and deliberately. Jimmy just smirked.

"Ah, sure, Mr. James. I was just telling Bridget here all about how Two-Bit Mathews hates 'er guts. That's all."

You could hear a fucking pin drop. You could _feel_ how heavy this silence was. I was practically gasping for air. What the hell, Jimmy? Who's this kid think he is?

"Mr. Hopper," Mr. James said, clearing his throat. "I'd like to see you after class."

Hell, so did I. Teach this brat a thing or two.

Let me tell you somethin':

I know I ain't a good guy. Lord _knows_ I ain't. But there are some things you never do. And I'll be honest- I haven't exactly been a saint when it comes to women. Lovin' 'em and leavin' 'em; seeing lots of gals at the same time; hell, I've even forgotten a couple of names and mixed 'em up with someone else while we're getting down and dirty. But there are some things you never do: you don't hit a girl. You don't ask her 'you on the rag?' when she starts bitching (know that one from experience). And you sure as hell don't embarrass one like _that_. I may not like her, but this stuff is common sense. I've cat-called and flipped skirts, but that shit's harmless, ain't it? I've never done that to a gal in school- it's like it's as off-limits as we socs and greasers try to keep our fights. I ain't a saint when it comes to women. But that crumpled look on her face was enough to make me feel ashamed on behalf of all males.

When class was over, Bee got outta there pretty fast. Missy followed quickly after her. I think she might have been crying. I feel pretty rotten when I make chicks cry, or whenever they cry in general, but I wasn't exactly sure if this one was my fault.

Oh, well. Either way, I was gonna fix this.

XXXXX

"Why d'you have a beef with this guy, exactly?" Steve asked.

"None of your business!" I sang. "Just help me find him."

"Everyone hates Hopper. He's a piece of shit, just like any other guy in the Shepard gang."

"Got that right," I agreed. We were rolling along in Steve's car, searching up and down the east side for Jimmy. I may not like her, but goddammit, I ain't gonna let him get away with making her cry like she did. That was some nasty shit he was saying, and the rest of our kind don't need him stirring up any trouble by provoking the new soc girl.

The objective was to beat his ass up so bad, he wouldn't be able to walk for a week. Or talk. Or see. Or do just about anything. I'd do anything to him, just short of killing him, to make sure that happened.

"Jimmy's trouble," Steve mused. "And he's Shepard's. That alone makes him trouble enough, if Tim finds out. Which he will. And you know Hopper plays dirty. Nothin' fair about him."

"Oh, and we're so fair? Well, I do declare, Steven Randle!"

"Shut your mouth, Mathews." But there was no bite behind it. Steve's voice was always kinda quiet and soft, but there was always just a hint of bitterness in his tone. Tonight, it was missing. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What's up with you?" I asked. "You and Evie on the outs or something?"

Steve snorted and shook his head. "Naw, man. But if I get hauled in for this, I will be. It's nothing, Two-Bit. But speaking of which, what's up with _you?_ You've been actin' real strange since school started. If anything, you and Kathy are suddenly on the outs. Now, I ain't ever understood you, but somethin's crawled up your ass and is lookin' to stay, because you just ain't yourself lately."

"What on God's green Earth are you talking about?"

Steve sighed. "I dunno man. You just seem…different."

I shrugged, keeping a watch out the window. "I don't feel different. Maybe times are just a-changin', Steve-o."

"Yeah, yeah. Hey, think that's our guy."

I followed Steve's gaze, and yep- there was Jimmy. I smiled at him.

"Showtime, Stevie."

XXXXX

 **AN: Annnnnnnd we're back! Hope you liked…maybe even loved? I know I'm excited to be back, and I hope you are, too!**

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	5. Goin' Down

**Author's Note: Next chapter! Thanks for the great response to the last chapter, and my triumphant return. Ha. Keep it up- it really helps! I'm very grateful.**

 **Happy reading. :)**

XXXXX

I was screwed.

How deep in it was I? So deep, that from the pit I was in, I wouldn't be able to see rock bottom if I looked up.

And when you're in that deep, there's only one guy you can go to.

XXXXX

 _"_ _Two-Bit! You're shitting me. You're not really going to do that, are you? Cuz if you do, I ain't ever speaking to you again!"_

 _I rolled my eyes. That's Kathy for ya, melodramatic as ever. I think she got it from me, and then perfected the art of it. "That ain't true, and you know it."_

 _Kath bit her lip, and for the first time in the entire time I've known her, she actually looked sad. Not angry, not pissed, or any other variation of upset. Just sad. "Two-Bit. You know what happened when my brother got in it with him."_

 _All I could do is shrug. "I ain't your brother, am I?"_

 _"_ _You sure aren't! He ain't near as stupid as you."_

 _"_ _You sure we're talking about the same guy? You don't have two brothers, do ya?"_

 _"_ _I'm serious here! You deal with Shepard, and we're through!"_

 _I'd heard that threat so many times, so I just shrugged, smirking at her, and walked out of the diner._

Kathy and I were never really an item. Were we? Hell if I know! But Lordy, she was fun. A firecracker. We got along fine when we weren't on the outs, when the other didn't have eyes on someone else, when we weren't sleeping with some other filthy grease. Isn't that sweet? Oh, sure it is. We had a thing going between each other, and it worked. It was us. The way we were was the way we were, and that's the way we was.

I didn't like sticking to one girl, anyway. It was exhausting.

"Two-Bit, what is this shit? This is what you're bringing me? Buddy, this ain't near enough."

I crossed my arms across my chest and started laughing at Tim. "Hooboy, Shep. I ain't your buddy, for starters. Second, what'd you expect? I need more time, Timmy!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "I've given you time, Mathews. Plenty of time. I need this money! Why can't you just get a goddamn job like the rest of us?"

"Like you? Tim, this ain't a job! You call running a gang a job?"

"More of a job then whatever the hell it is you do. What is that again? Oh, yeah. Borrowing money from me, losing it, and then sitting around with your thumbs up your ass!"

I rolled my eyes. "I'll get ya the fucking money, Shepard, if it's that important to ya."

"It is, dumbass!"

"Then you'll get it!" I grinned. "You trust me on this, now, you just give me a little more time, and you'll get it. More than that, even. Hell, Shep. I'll get ya a hundred more than yer asking for if you just give me what I'm asking for- and that's time."

"Time, time, time. Whatever, Mathews. Fine. If I don't get the dough in a month, you'll be wishing you were never born. And don't think you'll be able to talk yourself out of it, either."

I smirked. I would be able to. I'd buy myself as much time as I needed. I had a plan already, anyways. It was just a matter of a little persuasion, a little time, and a little bit of the good ol' Two-Bit Mathews charm. It's what kept Kathy coming back, and it's what was making Bee Stevens fall for me without her even knowing it yet.

Yeah, I'd get what we all wanted.

"One month, Two-Bit," Tim reminded me. "One month, or you'll wish you was never born."

I scratched one of my sideburns. So I was dealing with Tim Shepard. I'd borrowed some money about a month ago, and here I was, not paying it back. This is what happens when you gamble, kids. You throw away someone else's money, and then you have to pay them back. "Alright, then, Tim. I'll make sure to get you the money. One month."

He nodded, and then stood up and started leading me to the door of his 'office.' His 'office' was just one of the back rooms at Buck's, where he'd set up shop with a desk and a chair, a light swinging back and forth above him. Made me feel like I was in some sort of mob movie. He put his arm around my shoulder, like we were suddenly pals, which I'd just told him flat-out we weren't, but I wasn't about to piss him off or anything. If Tim wanted to pretend he was friends with you, you let him. "Another thing, Mathews," he started before he opened the door. It was just the two of us still.

"What's that?"

"I heard about Hopper."

My stomach flipped. I swallowed hard, then nervously ran a finger around my collar and smiled. "What about him?"

Tim just rolled his eyes. "I know it was you that beat him up. You and Randle ganged up on him. Now, before you get too worried, I'mma tell you somethin'. I know Hopper is a pain in the ass, and I know he prolly deserved it for whatever reason. But these days, we can't afford to be fightin' each other grease-on-grease. Things are gettin' bad with the socs. You know that. Ain't none of us know why, but they are, and now ain't the time to be getting' into it with each other. It's politics, Two-Bit. Too much in-fighting, and we won't stand a chance against 'em, no matter how this all turns out." He sighed. "Hopper is pretty out of it. Can't see outta one'a his eyes, so he'll be down and out for a while. And I'll try to keep him off your back, make sure he doesn't piss you and your gang off again. But I can't make any promises. Got it?"

I nodded. His talk had kinda taken the wind outta me. "Sure, Tim. I hear ya." I was sobered, and no one ever used _that_ word to describe me. He patted my shoulder.

"Thanks, Two-Bit. One month, man. One month."

I nodded, and then left Shepard's 'office', headed back out into the smoky bar inside Buck's. I spotted Dally sitting at the bar, chatting with Buck himself, so I walked up to them.

"You okay to race next Friday?" Buck was asking him. Dally was one of Buck's jockeys. He raced at rodeos and stuff like that. Soda used to ride bronc, but that had stopped real quick once he got hurt. But Dally shouldn't have any good reason not to race.

"Yeah, man, I'm good. Don't plan on gettin' locked up or nothin'. Wanna race that fucker from Oklahoma City. He just barely beat me out last time, so I wanna get back at 'im."

Buck nodded sagely. "Good man." He turned to me. "What can I get you, Mathews?"

"Whatever Dally's having."

He slammed a PBR in front of me.

"What's new with you, Winston?" I asked. He shrugged as I sat down next to him.

"Not much, man. Not much. How 'bout you, huh? What were you doin' talking to Tim?"

I cracked open the Pabst. "Not much. I took a loan out a while ago, so, just talkin' 'bout that."

"You borried money from Shepard?"

I nodded. "Yeah, man. I got a lotta debts to pay off, ya know. And it ain't exactly like I'm rakin' in a ton of dough just sittin' around goin' to school."

"That school's a waste of time, man. Just drop out like me and Soda did. And then if you wanna do somethin' with your day, just get a job."

"Oh, and that's what _you_ did?"

Dallas smiled dangerously. "I ain't wasting my time. And I ain't bumming around. Not like you. C'mon, Mathews. Ain't like anybody there wants to see your face anymore. Drop out and get a job. Then you won't have to mess with Shepard."

It was a tempting offer, but I wasn't done needling him yet, which was kinda like poking a bear, but he'd put up with it for a while. I give him shit all the time. "You kiddin' me? Jockeying ain't a _job_. You sit on a horse and people bet on you."'

"And then I get paid," he said, his voice low and dangerous and soft. "Seriously, man. What's keeping you there?"

"Why do you care so much?"

"Cuz I don't wanna hear you bitch about not having any money. Now seriously. Why do you stay?"

Dally had a point. I really didn't have much of a reason to stay there, not that I could think of. Wasn't like I was really learning anything- nothing I could use, that is. So I made something up that was kinda true, anyway. "Well, you know. Johnny and Pony are there, and you know how hard a time Johnny has of it there since he got jumped. And Pony…well, the kid's a year younger than everyone. He needs lookin' after. It ain't like middle school."

"Steve's there. He can handle it, even the kid." Randle cared more than he knew.

"And leave one man to do a two man job? I don't think so, Winston!" I sighed. "Look, man. I've got this under control. And if I gotta drop out, I will, okay? But right now, I don't think I'll need to. I'm just havin' fun."

Dallas snorted. "You're havin' _fun_. Well alright, then. Just don't come bitching to me to help you out with Shepard. Anyways, I heard about this party goin' on at the river bottom this Saturday. I was thinkin' 'bout taking Sylvia. You wanna bring Kathy along?"

"You wanna _double date?"_

He shrugged. "She's been pissed at me lately. Tryin' to get back on her good side."

I sighed. "Man, if you wanna bring Syl, that's fine, but I dunno 'bout Kathy. She's pissed at me for this whole Shepard thing."

"She's pissed at you all the time anyway. You don't gotta bring her. Bring a different squeeze. Or, hell, we don't gotta bring anybody at all. Let's you, me, Steve, and Soda go. Hell, maybe even Johnny'll tag along. Whuddyah say?"

I nodded. And so that was the plan.

XXXXX

Sodapop was lookin' dreamy, and that was never a good sign. It wasn't a good sign when he first discovered girls in back in '58, it wasn't a good sign when he got his first real girlfriend four years later, and it wasn't a good sign when he popped Janet Lowell's cherry when he was fourteen. When Soda's in love, it's disgusting. And I had no time for his puppy love because I had a real dilemma on my hand!

"I need your advice! I don't know what to do here!"

"What do you need my advice on?"

"I need to know whether or not I should drop outta school."

Soda raised his eyebrows. "Really."

" _Really_. Man, I was talkin' to Dally about it, and he made some good points."

"That's a first."

I surprised myself by laughing. "Well, sure. But place a monkey in front of a typewriter, and he's bound to write a sentence eventually. But I'm in _debt_ , Soda. I've got money problems, Lord knows _how-"_

"We all know _how,_ Two-Bit," Soda grinned. "If it's such a big worry of yours, and all signs are pointing to you needin' to drop out, I say do it. It was a no-brainer for me. With mom and dad gone, and Darry putting himself out, we needed the extra money. And school was never my digs, anyways. But, I mean, if you're finally plannin' to _graduate_ -"

"Let's not get hasty!" I sighed real heavy and thunk my ass down on the milk crate in their garage, where Soda was changing out the oil in Darry's truck. "I dunno, man. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. And I know I'm a dumbass, but school's fine without all the learnin' and shit. And Pony and Johnny can always use the extra set of eyes."

Soda hummed. "Can't argue with that."

I leaned back against the concrete wall. "And it ain't like I _have_ to. Yet. Maybe I will. We'll see how it goes." I started fiddling with my lighter, nerves probably, then figured a cigarette would settle them better and lit up.

Soda slammed the hood on the truck and started wiping his hands off on an oily rag. "You just gotta ask yourself what's keeping you there in the first place. I mean, if you wanna graduate, then you better get on it. But if you start gettin' in the red _too_ deep…" He trailed off and shrugged. "Well, that's my two cents, anyways."

I smiled around my cigarette. "Ya know, for a high school dropout, you can be real smart sometimes, Sodapop Curtis."

Sodapop laughed, and it bounced off the concrete walls and floor of the garage, mixing in with the tinny music coming from the radio and the sounds of nightfall. It was October. Soda was about to turn seventeen. Sadie's class had been preparing for Halloween since the start of the month, decorating pumpkins and reading stories and all that fun shit, even though it was still a ways off. And it looks like we'd have mild, Oklahoma weather for the big day, which would make my kid sister happy. "I like to think so. We all have our talents."

"Yeah, we do," I mused. "Speakin' of which, you got Sandy on the brain? Thinking of showing her some of those…talents?"

He shook his head. "Naw."

"You can't fool me, ya know," I drawled, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it ain't Sandy I'm thinkin' of."

"So is it Bardot or Bancroft?"

He looked down at his feet in shame. "Neither of them. Just…I dunno. That new girl…man, she's somethin' to look at, ain't she?"

I had to try really hard to keep my voice from goin' cold. "I guess so."

"You guess so? C'mon, man! She's more than an ' _I guess so._ ' Now, I love Sandy and all"- _already?-_ "but, hey, can't blame a guy for lookin'. She stopped by the station the other day, with another girl in her class. Redhead. God, they were _both_ good-lookin'." Soda suddenly looked kinda sad. "We woulda been in the same grade, I guess."

I watched Sodapop real closely. His shoulders were slumped and he was moving a bit slower, like he was real weighed down by something. Maybe I'd have to revisit the whole dropout thing another time, when I couldn't see the consequences right in front of my face.

XXXXX

"Keith! What are we doin' at church? It ain't Sunday, and I didn't do nothin' bad, I don't gots anything to confess." I sure did, but I wasn't about to tell her that. "But- wait, this ain't even our church! This ain't Saint Mary's. What're we doin' here?"

"Just lookin' for somethin', girly-girl."

"For what?"

"Nothin'!"

"Then let's go _home!_ I've been at school all day and I've got homework!"

"What kinda homework does a fourth-grader have, anyways?"

Sadie sighed real long and big. "It's math. Times tables and long division. Teacher says it's real important stuff."

"Oh, I'm sure it is, girly-girl."

I kept my eyes glued to the front of the church, and sure enough, there was Kathy. Whenever she and I were on the outs, she would spend a lot more time at church. She was Southern Baptist, her daddy was a preacher. Funny thing, because she and her brother? Not exactly your model preacher's kids. In fact, her brother was big in the Tigers. Real mean sonunvabitch. But he hadn't lived at home for a few years. Something about a "stifling home environment" is what Kathy had told me. Shame, because their parents were good folks. Just pushovers.

"Kathy!"

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked around for a second before her eyes met mine. She scowled and crossed the street and stood at the door of my truck. "What the hell are you doing here?" She seethed.

"Hey!" I hooked a thumb at Sadie. "Little pitchers, Kathy."

Kathy looked past me and saw my kid sister sitting next to me. "Sorry, Sadie." Sadie just smiled at her. It was no secret that she didn't like Kathy. Hell, I don't think anyone _really_ liked Kathy. Kath turned back to me. "Now. What do you want?"

I leaned in, trying to make the conversation a bit more private. "Listen. I know you're mad about the whole Shepard thing. But it's gonna work out, okay, baby? Don't worry about it. Don't be mad. You know me, I always work these things out."

Kathy sighed. "So far. What happens when you can't?"

I shrugged. "I don't know cuz that ain't gonna happen. So would ya quit avoiding me so much? It's all gonna work out."

She shook her head, not quite looking me in the eyes. "I just don't know, Two-Bit. I just don't know right now. You keep pulling shi- _stuff_ like this. I'm sick of being the girlfriend of Tulsa's biggest bum. Got that?"

I rolled my eyes. "There's about a thousand nicer ways you coulda said that."

"Who cares about nice anymore, Two-Bit?"

Kathy scowled at me one last time and stalked off, and I was starting to think that maybe she was right, that nobody gave a shit about being nice anymore, that greasers didn't and socs didn't and middle class people probably didn't either, but having a nine-year-old sister kinda puts all that in perspective.

"She's not a nice girl, Keith," Sadie told me defiantly as I pulled away from Kathy's church and headed for home. "You can do better than her."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. I've never liked her."

I sighed. "I know, girly-girl." I was starting to think that maybe I'd never like her, either.

XXXXX

 **AN: I'm back! Again! But no worries- chapter six is almost done, and will be up soon. I mean it this time.**

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	6. A Right Pretty Picture

**Author's Note: Chapter six, comin' at ya! Thank you for the response to the last chapter- everything you say and do motivates me to not only write, but write faster! I cannot express my thanks enough.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

On Saturday night, the four of us- me, Soda, Steve, and Dallas- piled into a car that Dally had borrowed from Buck. A nice, white convertible. I didn't want to know how Buck had managed to pay for that thing, cuz this wasn't even the nicest car he owned. Not that I was complaining- it's not every day that I get to ride in style. My truck is a piece of shit. Buck's the only guy on the east side that has a decent ride. Now, I don't know how he gets them, or how honestly, but it ain't like we're all honest all the time.

"Dallas, can you put your goddamn hands on the wheel?" Steve asked, hot and bothered.

"Man, I'm bein' careful! Buck'll kill me if I crash this thing."

"Yeah, and I'll kill _you_ if you crash it with me in it."

"That a threat, Randle?"

"Aw, come off it, Dally. He's just fuckin' with ya," Soda said cheerfully. "'Sides, Dally here's a better driver with no hands on the wheel than Two-Bit is with both of 'em."

They all started _oohing_ and _aahing_ at me, and Dallas chucked me in the shoulder. Dallas actually looked kinda…happy. Sorta. He was smirking. Not smiling! Smirking. But that was pretty good for him, and if he needed to rib me to be that way, that's cool with me. I don't mind a little teasin'. I ain't so sensitive. And it ain't like people have ever really picked on me. Me and Darry have never looked like guys you should be messin' with. And when all of us are together, all seven of us, even li'l' Pony and Johnny, _none_ of us look like people you should be fucking with.

But we poke fun at each other plenty, even if some of us are pussies when it comes to takin' it as good as you can dish it out.

The river bottom was a good place for parties. About once a month, people would come down here and throw a good bash, when the weather allowed it. We don't come down each time, but it's something you can rely on if you're lookin' for a good time. In the summer, or when the weather is warm, people actually jump into the river and flop around like fish, or drunken sailors. Because, ya know, they're blitzed. One guy jumped in one time, naked as the day he was born, hootin' and hollering all the way. Bad timing, I suppose, cuz that happened to be the exact second the cops busted the party. Guy got arrested for public indecency.

So. You know.

What? I haven't done anything like that.

Okay, fine. I _have_. And that 'one guy' was me. Way to drag it out of me. Look, we've all made asses of ourselves at one point or another, so don't judge me too hard, okay? Not for this.

"This is gonna be good!" Soda whispered to Steve. They'd been sitting side-by-side in the backseat, and knowing Soda, he was getting…giddy. Now, we've all told Ponyboy that Soda's not much of a drinker, at the man himself's request, but the rest of us now that ain't exactly true. Soda likes to get his buzz on. But hopefully, Johnny will've gotten Pony home before Soda gets there, and he'll be none the wiser. Dreamy kid. He once told me that Soda got "high off life." Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Kid's not totally innocent, but my _god._

"Oh, lordy," I said as we got out of the car. "Lookit what just rolled in."

A little red Stingray pulled up to the river bottom, six screaming girls crammed inside. They got out and crowded with a bunch of other socs. I looked a little closer to try and see who they were, and yep- three of 'em were Bee Stevens, Missy Redar, and queen of 'em all, Vickie Harper.

Lemme tell you about Vickie Harper.

I think she may have been the first blonde I ever fell for. How could I not? How could _anyone_ not? She was tall and pretty and blonde and pretty and blonde…and you get my gist. We'd been in school together for years. I was a year ahead of her until I got held back. I was supposed to be a senior this year, but whatever. Anyways, me and Vickie. I was in ninth grade, she was in eighth, and she'd wandered into this upperclassman party that I was only at because Darry had let me tag along. We were down in the basement of this guy's house, playing spin the bottle, and the rule is, if someone lands on the same person three times, that means you gotta spend seven minutes in the closet together. I got lucky that night, and in my humble opinion, so did she. But when we were sittin' together in there and I was reminding myself of the tips Darry had given me – especially when it came to undoing the bra – she looked at me with the stoniest look I've ever seen, still to this day, and grabbed my arm and made me face her. She had golden blonde hair and pretty blue eyes, but no matter how pretty they are, they're still the meanest set I've ever seen.

 _"_ _Don't get any ideas," she'd told me. "I ain't doing anything with the likes of you."_

 _I laughed her off. "C'mon,_ Vick _," I drawled. "Relax. You've already had to kiss me twice, ya know. And it ain't like I'm the worst-lookin' guy here." This was true. Say what you want about me, but I sure as hell ain't as ugly Timothy Whelan. He's the only guy I've ever seen that looks closer to mule than man. Vickie knew this was true, too, but she didn't seem to care._

 _"_ _This ain't about looks,_ Two-Bit _," she said, rather disdainfully. "You're no-good. I'd rather spend seven minutes in this closet with one of those North Side boys than you."_

 _My eyes widened in surprise. Shit. This girl meant business. Not that that was what surprised me- what surprised me was the fact that she was, well, ya know…_

 _Anyway. Ain't like she was the only one._

 _"_ _My, my, Miss Harper. That's a tad discriminatory, don't'cha think?" I pulled out all my four-dollar words for this gal._

 _"_ _I don't care," she said loftily. "All I know is that I don't gotta pretend when it's just me and you. You're dangerous, that's what my mother and daddy told me, and I'm gonna stay the hell away from you."_

 _I yanked my arm outta her grasp and folded my arms across my chest. I leaned back against the wall and wished for a cigarette, if only so I could blow the smoke in her face. "Ya know, Vickie, you don't even know me."_

 _"_ _I know your type. And that's enough. I'm surprised you haven't tried to take advantage of me."_

 _"_ _Ain't like nobody would notice. They're all'a five feet away- they'd hear ya screamin'. If I wanted to do_ that _, I sure as hell wouldn't be stupid enough to do it here. See? Ya learn somethin' new every day."_

I had stormed outta the closet right after that, knowing my temper was starting to flare up and I shouldn't take it out on a girl, even if she was the one being the asshole. But the look on her face as I shoved the closet door open and stomped upstairs with two minutes to go was priceless. Gonna carry that one with me forever. I didn't like seeing Bee Stevens following her around. And not because it was Bridget, but because it was Vickie. Words hurt just as bad as fists sometimes. Sometimes more. I kinda feel like a pansy saying that, but it's true. They were a right pretty set of gals. Vickie wore royal blue, which I suppose is appropriate. Bee Stevens wore a pair of pedal pushers with little daisies running up the sides. There was a gal with a brown bob, and another one with hair so red it looked like a lipstick color that Kathy would wear. One of the gals was Missy Redar, the girl who sits next to Stevens in our history class. Now, she was a looker, but she was…she was a little too Sunday School for me. And I think the other girl's name was Penny something-or-other, and she was…fine.

Hey, I may hate 'em, but you can't blame me for doing a little ogling.

"Beer, Two-Bit?" Steve asked. I hadn't noticed him walk off. He handed me something without a label, which is suspicious, but hey, this shit hasn't killed me yet.

"Of course, my good man! Who made this?"

"Beats me. But the guy was goin' on and on about how he made it in his bathtub. Said it's pretty strong. Sounded right up your alley."

I tried it. Strong was one word for it. Wouldn't recommend it to the car full of the fairer sex that had just pulled in. I smacked my lips. "It's somethin'."

"So's this party. Kinda cold, though."

I shrugged. "I guess. Ya coulda worn a jacket, dummy."

Steve scowled. "Shuddup, man. Let's go check it out."

And check it out we did. I was glad we didn't bring any of the girls. It was good, just us guys. Sometimes, I think we all wish for the days when Maggie and Darrel Senior, the Curtis' parents, were alive. Because then Darry wouldn't be sound tightly wound, and he might be out here with us right now. Darry used to go to parties with us all the time. Or just him and me. He used to let me tag along everywhere he went, and none of his buddies cared because I was able to crack 'em up like nobody else, and I know how to party. These days, without Darry, they don't care for me so much. I guess I sort of have my own rep built up now, and they ain't so fond of it. And when the Curtises were alive, it felt like Johnny was somehow safer, too, and that was before he'd gotten jumped by those socs…yeah. Those were the days. Sometimes, I think we're all still recovering from the accident. Darry's not ever gonna be the same again. None of us are. Things are changing too fast.

I had a pretty good buzz going. All of us did. At one point, Dallas had disappeared, but that was par for the course. He often went off on his own for a little while, might not even reappear. We'd see him the next day, a couple days later, a week later, and he'd have all sorts of stories to tell. So the three of us – me, Soda, and Steve – and a couple other guys from our side of town were standing around a keg, laughing and drinking, the air all hazy and blue with the smoke from our cigarettes, night falling fast, when I saw something…not right. Jimmy Hopper is a dumbass and not one to be messed with if you ain't familiar with him, don't get me wrong, but Dallas Winston is something else. So when I saw him talking to _Bee Stevens_ of all people from across the crowd, just be sheer chance, my heart fell into my stomach. That ain't right. It's one hundred different flavors of _wrong_. The conversation didn't last long, and he didn't touch her, which is good.

"Two-Bit? Buddy, where'd you go?" Soda laughed, shoving me a bit to get my attention. It worked, and I snapped out of it, and smiled at him around my cigarette.

"Who knows, man? Who knows." Seems I had girls, particularly bratty socialite ones, on the brain tonight. I blew smoke in his face, and he started coughing and laughing, and I was laughing with him too, and he tried to get me in a headlock and I let him. "Aw, man, watch my hair! _My hair!"_

Soda let up and shoved me again. "Aw, shuddup. It's just hair."

"Just hair?" I repeated, incredulous, as I ran a comb through my DA. "Well, alright, Sodapop Patrick. Then I guess you won't mind if I do _this!"_

I reached over and tussled his hair up real good, making his blond locks stand up in greasy chunks. "Oh, you _fucker_."

"Yeah, yeah. Think Steve'll let me do that to him?"

"Will Steve let you do _what?_ " Steve asked, overhearing us. I grinned at him.

"Fuck up yer hair."

Steve put a hand up protectively to his black curls. "Hell no, Mathews! You know I've got this shit _insured._ "

"Aw, would ya look at that! Randle made a funny!"

Steve brushed me off, _yeah yeah_ , but he wasn't really angry, so the mood stayed light. I was glad for it because in the back of my head, all I could think of was Dally talking to Stevens and how wrong it was. It made me want to puke, and if I had any more to drink, I probably would. When I caught up with him later, sitting around a bonfire, it was the first thing I asked him. The smell of smoke was overpowering, and people were getting rowdy, and it seemed as if people were avoiding him. It was Dally's kind of environment. I shouldered up beside him, though, unafraid and unintimidated – by his rep, his rap sheet, by everything he is – and passed him a bottle of that unlabeled homebrew.

"Were you talking to Bee Stevens?" I asked Dally, real casual-like to avoid him getting suspicious. He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"Is that what they're callin' her?"

I allowed myself a grin. "Guess so. And it's all my doin', too," I said proudly.

"You came up with that?"

"Yessir."

Dallas snorted, still grinning ruefully, and tipped his beer at me. "Well, she don't seem to like it, that's for sure. Nice work."

"Well, I can't take all the credit. If she weren't so damn good at gettin' on my nerves, I wouldn't have bothered in the first place. So it's a collaboration. Anyways, what were you doin' talking to her? Ain't like she's interesting or anything."

Dallas took a drag off his cigarette and looked at it closely. "A few weeks ago now, I guess, I saw her in a drugstore. I was passin' through, outta cigarettes, and decided to duck in and lift a carton. Guess she saw me cuz she actually _offered to buy it for me_."

I laughed. And laughed. And I fuckin' _laughed_ because the image of little ol' Bee Stevens, Tulsa's newest, up-and-coming socialite, offering to buy Dallas Winston, the big bad greaser, a carton of cigarettes was priceless, fucking _priceless,_ and I wish I had been there. That took balls, no joke. This girl was a mystery. "You're _kidding._ "

"Like hell I am. Soc _bitch_. I mean, there's a thrill to stealing, yeah?"

"Well, yeah. I don't do it cuz I'm Robin Hood or whatever. I do it for kicks."

"Right. She don't get shit like that. She doesn't get how shit is down here."

"How could she? She's been here not two months, man."

"I told her how it was. How it is. Made it real clear to her not to bother me again."

"Then…what were _you_ doin' bothering _her?"_

Dallas looked at me in a way that suggested I shouldn't have questioned him. He gets that look a lot. He flicked away the ashes from his cigarette. Maybe he was trying to scare me. Maybe not. But he didn't scare me. Not really. "Just thought it was funny, seeing her down her. Ain't really her scene. Seems kinda like a goody-two-shoes. So I thought I'd get under her skin a bit. Seemed to work. Why do you _care?"_ He spit out his last words like venom, like the snake he was.

"Don't go draggin' her through our shit, Dally," I warned him. "Leave her outta it."

"That's the plan, if she can keep her goddamn head down! Two-Bit, sometimes, I swear, man…you ain't her _keeper_." Dallas shook his head and turned away from me, telling me without saying a word to not respond.

The light from the bonfire danced across Dally's face, and the way his hair was curled and pointed in every direction made him look like the Devil himself. I thought that perhaps I should cross myself, but I'd given up religion as a bad job long ago. But seeing Dallas looking like that, his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared out over the water, I couldn't help but think that I was seeing danger in the flesh.

"You alright there, Dally?"

He didn't say anything. Just nodded slowly. I followed his gaze. Saw what he was looking at- or, really, _who_. And let's just say, when Dally's lookin' at somebody like that, it don't end well.

"Dally?" I repeated.

"You decide if you're gonna drop out or not?" He asked, completely changing the subject. I shrugged.

"I dunno. I got fifty the other night in a game that'll go to Shepard."

"You owe him a helluva lot more than that."

I sighed, and took a long drag of my cigarette, and blew the smoke out my nose. "I know. He gave me a month. It's gonna take longer, but I'll find a way to make it longer."

Dallas laughed humorlessly. "Let's hope so. You don't wanna know what Tim does to guys who don't make good on their promises."

Something in his eyes told me that I absolutely shouldn't ask why he knew that.

XXXXX

Is it weird to watch someone talking to someone else? I swear, I wasn't eavesdropping on Missy and Bridget's conversation. I wasn't! Just…observing. She held her head up high when she spoke, pointed nose in the air, and she smiled when she talked. It was weird. And when she opened her mouth, you could see her teeth, and that's how I noticed-

"You gotta gap between your teeth."

Bridget stopped talking suddenly, and her face dropped. She slowly turned to look at me, Missy watching her every move, eyes darting back and forth. And then she looked at Missy, then looked back at me, and I smiled at her. Good one, Mathews. That's the way to get a girl's attention. Like I said, I needed to annoy the shit out of her. I _had_ to.

"Yeah," she said, sounding like she was having to try really hard to keep her cool. "I know."

"Does it bother you?" I asked, not really thinking about what I was saying.

"No, it doesn't. Why, does it bother you?"

I shook my head. Why would it bother me? It was just an observation, is all. "Of course not! I'm not bothered by it at all. I just wanted to make sure _you_ knew."

She bit her lip. See, little things like this are what get to her. One shoulder tap at a time, Mathews. She'll blow eventually. She deserves it.

"Thank you for your concern, Two-Bit," she said, "but it really wasn't necessary."

Then she turned back around, like…what? Like that was it? I wasn't about to let her _win_. Nuh- _uh._ My mind raced, thinking of something else to say, cuz, ya know, I just don't like the quiet. And I just don't like her.

"I guess that's just who I am, ya know?" I finally settled on. "I look out for people." She snapped her head back up, and I knew I had her.

"Two-Bit," she sighed, eyes closed, "will you stop talking?"

I held my hands up- alright, fair enough. I'll stop talking. "Talking" being the operative word here. I smiled to myself, and as the teach started getting back into his lecture, I ripped a piece of paper out of my notebook and wrote this:

 _Passing notes... How naughty of me! Hehe. Anyways, word's getting around that YOU had an actual conversation with Dallas Winston! Can you believe that? I sure as hell can't. -Col. Two-Bit Mathews Esquire the Third_

And then I threw it onto her desk and waited for a response. Which I got.

 _It's true. Why do you care? -Bridget Stevens_

 _I care because he's a buddy of mine. A right pain in the ass, but a buddy nonetheless. Anyway, what were you thinking talking to him? He's dangerous! -Two-Bit Mathews_

 _Dangerous, sure. But it isn't like I chose to talk to him. He spoke to me first. -Bridget Stevens_

 _Doesn't matter. Stay away from him. I'm doing you a favor by telling you this. He can be bad news! –TM_

It had been a few days since the party, but every now and then, I could see the two of them, clear as day, talking to each other, just for those few seconds. Like I said, it made me sick. Let the innocent be innocent. She passed the note back to me behind her back without looking. I was almost surprised she was bothering to respond.

 _I thought you said you were buddies? -BS_

 _Ha! BS! That's rich, Stevens. I'd start including your middle name in there if I were you. And yes, we are. Doesn't mean I can't warn ya. -TM_

 _Shut up about my name. And I'll do whatever I want in regards to Dallas Winston. I can take care of myself. –BMS_

Yeah. Sure she could. And I'm Bobby Kennedy.

 _Yeah, yeah. Sure you can. But when he tries playing tonsil hockey with you and you don't like it... Don't come crying to me. -Two-Bit_

 _Don't worry. I won't. -Bridget_

 _Good. Oh, and I look forward to seeing you in one of those Pom-Pom girl uniforms. I think orange might be your color! -Two-Bit_

She didn't write back after that. (It wasn't true, anyways. _Red_ was her color.)

XXXXX

 **AN: Thanks for reading. Things are heating up, and I'm getting excited! I hope you are, too. If you liked, leave a review, fave, or follow. It would make my day!**


	7. Heavyweight Champ

**Author's Note: Here's chapter seven! I'd like to thank you all for your continued support.**

 **I'd like to let you all know that with their consent, I am crossing over a section of this chapter with HappierThanMost's story** ** _Dividing Lines_** **. (Check it out!) Part of the section, which is in italics, is the telling of a portion of that story from Two-Bit's point of view, and a few lines have been borrowed. Just in case you noticed there was some overlap. :) Thanks, Happier!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Stevens was not happy about having to learn that she had made the Pom-Pom girl squad from me. She came in the day after I told her, having apparently forgotten that results had been posted the day before, absolutely fuming.

"What's up, honey?" I asked her. " _Bee_ in your bonnet?" Jimmy would've laughed at my joke before Steve and I beat him up, but now he just sat there, sullen and scared. Tim must've really put the fear of God into him. Bee shook her head.

"You spoiled it for me!" She squealed. "You ruined the surprise! My friends and I were all going to look together, and you had to go and screw it up."

" _Je_ sus, Stevens. I get you're upset, but do you gotta be so _loud_ about it?"

Bee scowled at me. It wasn't a pretty look for her. "If anybody is _loud_ , it's _you_. You never know when to shut up."

"Ouch," I drawled sarcastically. "Remind me not to ruffle _your_ feathers again."

Bridget could not, for the life of her, seem capable of resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It was kinda amusing. "Well, anyway, since I made it, I have to be on stage at the pep rally on Friday. I'm kinda nervous about it?"

I scoffed. "Why? Ain't like you gotta do much more than look pretty up there."

"I _know,_ but still. Everyone's gonna be staring at us. We'll be in our uniforms and everything. It's just…look, I'm not _that_ nervous, just a little."

"Well, you ain't got no reason to be, cuz in my humble opinion-"

"Mr. Mathews, would you kindly refrain from your flirting with Miss Stevens so we can begin class?"

Mr. James gave me a droll look while the rest of the class tittered, Stevens turning a light shade of pink, but she was laughing a bit, too. I smiled at her. "Sure thing, Mr. James. Take it away."

Mr. James shook his head at me one more time before turning to the board and starting class. I wasn't paying attention to him, though, because Bee kept looking back at me. The lights were down because he was using the projector, and I was just about to fall asleep when about twenty minutes into the lecture, she dropped a folded piece of paper onto my desk. I smiled. When I opened the piece of paper, it read:

 _I just feel weird getting up in front of people. It never used to be my thing. I wasn't exactly popular at my old schools. – Bridget_

Huh. Whaddya know. Looking at her now, I'd have never guessed. Well, the crazy curly hair kinda looks spazzy, but the rest of her…not so much.

 _I don't believe_ _that_ _. You're the BEE's knees now. Get it? Huh? – Two-Bit_

 _You're insufferable. You know that?_

 _So I've been told. You ain't the first girl to tell me that._

 _Again: insufferable._

 _Ok then. Whatever helps you sleep at night. You can stand in front of a few hundred people and look pretty. I could do it. And if I could do it, you definitely can. Got it?_

Bee didn't respond until the end of class when the bell rang and Mr. James put the lights up. She looked at me, smiled, and said, "Got it."

XXXXX

"These young men have all the God-given abilities to make great ball players, that's for sure!"

Yeah, yeah. Who gives a shit. Before my ma told me we were dirt poor, I played baseball. For the school. I'd played a long time, in Little League as a kid with my buddies, but I guess I started feeling a little guilty about making ma pay for it. And a lot of the guys on the team my freshman year didn't like me cuz, ya know, I'm a grease and I look it. So I quit. And that was my stint with school sports. Let Darry and Ponyboy have it.

"This is stupid," Steve grumbled, arms crossed over his chest. "Why in god's name do I gotta be here?"

"Beats me," I shrugged.

"This is your fault. You're the one who got us caught cuz you couldn't stop runnin' your mouth!" he added, chucking me in the arm.

"Ow!" I rubbed the spot where he hit me, and just as I was about to hit him back, Johnny poked his head in between us. He and Pony were right behind me and Steve, and, ya know, could at least pretend they were into this.

"Guys, cut it out!" He whispered. "I don't wanna get detention again."

We grumbled about it, but we turned back around and faced the auditorium stage. Stupid pep rally. Stupid Principal Vernon and the stupid class president and the stupid teachers and the stupid football team and the stupid Pom-Pom girls-

Wait.

I take that back. Maybe Pom-Pom girls aren't so stupid. I like those skirts and those tight sweaters, all paired with the curly hair and bright smiles, painted lips. Wish you were here to drink that in with me. I leaned back and put my hands behind my head and smiled. And then I felt Ponyboy shove me in the shoulder. Too much roughhousing.

"You're drooling!" He hissed. "C'mon, Two-Bit, this is school. And those are nice girls."

Nice girls? _Nice girls?_ Give me a break. I could tell you from experience that at least two of the girls up there right now - Vickie Harper and Bee Stevens - were _not_ nice girls. Nice lookin', sure. But those are two different things, ya know? "How would you know?"

Pony shrugged. "I know a couple of 'em. Like the girl with the black hair. She sits next to me in my art class. She's nice. We talk."

I raised an eyebrow at him. They _talk._ Let me get this straight: when _Ponyboy_ talks to Stevens, she's all nice, and well, actually talks to him. But with me? I get treated like I'm the wad of gum stuck on the bottom of her shoe. Great. "You _like_ her?"

"Who does Ponyboy like?" Steve whispered. "Shit, Pony, you like one'a those girls?"

"No!"

"Guys, _shut up_ ," Johnny begged, so we did. He'd asked enough times, and Johnny didn't really like getting in trouble at school if he could help it.

Stuff like this always made me feel like scum. Like it was really Us versus Them, and even the teachers and Principal Vernon were in on it, even though I knew better and knew that they weren't. Football is the future. Yeah, yeah. I knew a number of the guys on stage. I knew Darry, if he were here, would know more, know the guys who are now upperclassmen, and he and I would talk, and Darry would give me the four-one-one on all of them, who was really good and was going somewhere, and who was just lucky. Who was really an asshole, who was actually a good guy, who was a good guy posing as an asshole, and who was an asshole posing as a good guy. But now, just the four of us sitting there, we were just lost. The captain of the team, Bob Sheldon, was giving some sort of speech. It put Steve to sleep, but these sorts of things often did. When the last bell of the day rang, Johnny woke up Steve ( _"Holy shit, kid, don't scare me like that!")_ and we made our way to the parking lot so I could give them all lifts home. The Pom-Pom girls were lingering around, chatting to the football players. It's the natural order. Bob Sheldon was with that redhead girl. I think. He had his hands all over her.

That was one of the girls Bridget hung around with. She and Vickie were introducing her to some guy, and Bridget was looking…flustered, is the word I think I'm looking for. I couldn't recognize him from the back, maybe because last I'd really seen him, he'd been a scrawny freshman. Now, he'd beefed up, gotten a little taller, and smiled a little easier. I think Soda popped him a few months back on accident one night out on the town. When he turned his head, though, I knew who it was. I hate this guy now.

I hate Jerry Thompson because he has everything I want.

XXXXX

 _I'm drunk. I'm drunk and I'm a sophomore. I'm drunk and I'm a sophomore at some middle class kid's house, and it's a party. Cuz we're headed to state, man! We're headed to state, and Darry's gonna be there, cuz he's got The Golden Arm, and football is the future. Not just Darry's, but mine, if I can keep riding his coattails. He's the one who invites me to these things; I wouldn't come to a party like this on my own. Not saying I'm having a bad time or anything, but what I'm saying is that I probably wouldn't've given this bash a second look if something came up on my side of town. I ain't stupid – it's safer to dangerous things with your own kind. Speaking of my own kind, after trying to get in some blonde senior chick's pants for about twenty minutes, I spot Steve and Sodapop, hanging around in the garage smoking with some other hoods, and I excuse myself from the lady's company and head over to hang out with them. I sling my arm around Steve's shoulder and shake him a bit._

 _"_ _Stevie boy! And middle Curtis," I yelp, pointing at Darry's younger brother. "I can't believe y'all made it up to the big leagues. High school boys. You grew so fast." I'm pretending to work myself up, but even though I'm just joking, Steve's not having it, so he stalks off to the keg, which is just funny more than anything else. Guy takes himself too seriously. I raise an eyebrow at Soda. "What's crawled up his ass?" Before Sodapop can even answer, I see Darry in the kitchen window, laughing it up with Paul Holden. Paul's kinda a bore, but I can put up with him. I grab Soda's hand to lead him inside. "Hey, there's Darry. C'mon."_

 _But Sodapop doesn't budge. He's planted himself in the concrete, and when I look at him, he's pissed_. _(I ain't_ that _drunk.) I want to ask him what's wrong, but he seems to have read my mind because he says, "I think Mr. Football don't know where he came from no more. I'm not so sure which team he's really on."_

 _Well, hold up. I know that ain't true. I know Soda's got his loyalties, but Darry has his. And one of those is to his team. Darry's a real popular guy, sure. But Soda doesn't get it – Darry ain't gonna put anything before his brothers, so I stick up for my buddy. "That ain't true, Sodapop, and you know it." He opens his mouth to say something, probably to mouth off to me, but he just scowls and walks off, probably to find Steve. So I head in alone._

 _When I get there, Darry's the center of attention. Paul is right by him, but I quickly remedy that by squeezing in between them. I know Paul and Darry are good buddies, but Darry and I have been friends since the dinosaurs. He wouldn't pick him over me, and my thoughts are confirmed when Paul looks annoyed, but Darry seems glad to see me. "Hey, man, what's happenin'?" He asks. "Seen that kid brother of mine around?"_

 _I wave towards the garage. "Oh, he's out there with Steve, doing whatever the hell it is they do. What's going on here?"_

 _Darry points to the kid standing across from us. He's coming up on six foot or so, might be there already, but he's a bit on the small side. He kinda has the same looks as Darry, too, come to think of it. He looks a bit nervous. He's wearing a polo shirt and khakis, and he keeps wiping his palms on them. Seems this might be his first real party. "Jerry, this is Two-Bit Mathews. Two-Bit, this is Jerry Thompson, future varsity quarterback." Darry sounds kinda proud._

 _"_ _Aw, don't say that," Jerry says, waving him off. "I ain't that good."_

 _"_ _But you will be, soon enough. Stick with ol' Darrel here, and he'll whip you into shape," Paul said, examining the kid. "It'll be a shame that we won't be able to play with ya."_

 _"_ _Damn shame," Darry agrees. Jerry looks flattered, but in a way that says he ain't used to the attention. He turns to me._

 _"_ _You're Two-Bit Mathews?" He asks, like he actually cares. I grin at him._

 _"_ _Yessir! Dumbass extraordinaire, court jester, and the last man you want as your designated driver at your service." Jerry actually laughs._

 _"_ _I heard you play ball, too?"_

 _I totter my empty hand. "Baseball. Yeah."_

 _"_ _See, I saw you playing last year. I came with my junior high team to watch you guys. You're a good catcher."_

 _Yeah, I was. But I didn't want to tell him that money was too tight for me to keep playing, though, so I humored him. "Thanks, man. You play?"_

 _Jerry nodded. "Yeah. I kinda, uh, I'm kinda playin' somethin' all year. Never a dull moment. Hope to see you on the diamond this year."_

 _"_ _Yeah. Me too."_

 _I looked at Darry, who seemed to share my train of thought, and knowing the truth. This kid was sincere. But I could tell he was a soc. I could just look at him and tell. But I didn't mind him back then. We were just guys back then. It ain't so simple now. I hate him._

It really ain't so simple now. Because yeah, Jerry Thompson wasn't the worst soc out there. He was the only one I'd met who I'd venture to say is a decent guy. Or, was, when I last really talked to him two years ago. We'd said a few things in passing since, but not now, not with the whole rivalry heating up. Now we're in the same grade and he's become everything I could never be and never will be. He's a girl's dream. He's who Darry was. He's gonna be boy of the year. He's the one with The Golden Arm, because football is the future. Or, his future. It wasn't a future for Darry. So this Jerry guy has a future. He's golden. He's _great!_ if you believe what the girls say, that one word _oozing_ with meaning.

But the girls were outta luck because it looked like Jerry Thompson had the hots for a specific raven-haired girl.

A few days after the pep rally, I'm early to history. So I'm sitting in my seat, doodling in my notebook while simultaneously blabbing at Jimmy Hopper, who's still scared of me, when I see a transaction that makes me want to _puke_ : Bridget walks in, and Jerry Thompson follows close behind her, and hands her her books. And their making lovey-dovey eyes at each other and it's _gross_.

"Same time tomorrow?" Thompson asked her at the door, smiling at her like they'd just done it in the janitor's closet and hadn't gotten caught. I rolled my eyes. Like I said, Jerry Thompson was an okay guy as far as socs go, but still…c'mon…

"Same time tomorrow," she repeated, and then she came in to the classroom, smiling all dreamily and practically oozing happiness. I couldn't tell if I wanted to throw up or laugh at her. I settled for keeping the contents of my stomach, well, in my stomach and frowned at her.

"What's with the smile, Stevens?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. She turned and looked at me, smiling like she had a secret.

"None of your business!" She snapped, looking like she wanted to laugh at me. I rolled my eyes.

"I figger it must have something to do with the quarterback, don't it? Mister Jerry Thompson?" She blushed, but was trying real hard to keep her composure. "Thought so! Lookit you- you're in _love_."

I smiled at her, my best shit-eating grin, and she just shrugged.

"I'm not in love," she insisted, pissed off. "I barely know him. He's just a nice guy, is all."

I laughed. "Yeah, right! That's what they all say! ' _He's just a nice guy.' 'I swear, there ain't nothin' between us!' 'He's just a friend!_ ' Bullcrap, all of it. I've heard it all before, honey Bee, don't think you can get anything past Two-Bit Mathews!"

But Bee just shook her head and turned back around. I frowned, and slumped back in my seat. Mr. James started talking - Revolutionary War, I think? - but I didn't pay attention. George Washington, blah blah blah. We _know._ I _know_ all about Yorktown (I ain't stupid), and I _know_ that Bridget Stevens is falling head over heels for Jerry Thompson (I ain't blind).

XXXXX

"Two-Bit, do you ever spend any time at your own house?"

Pony was in a mood. As if that was news. He was just pissed cuz he wanted to hang out with Johnny, but Darry made him stay in and do his homework instead. Kid didn't get it, Darry was just lookin' out for him. I dunno, maybe one day he'll get it.

"Sure I do!" I grinned. "But c'mon, you'd miss me if I weren't here."

He rolled his eyes. "Pretty sure I _wouldn't._ "

Johnny grinned. I can't believe he and Dallas can put up with Pony as long as they do. I flicked his ear to get him riled up, and he yelped.

"What was that for?" He cried.

"For being a little shit!" I sang. "Where's your brother?"

"Which one, dumbass?"

"Watch it," I warned. "I'm your elder. Don't get smart with me." He scowled, and that's how I knew to just give up. "Darrel. Where's your oldest brother?"

He motioned behind him. "Kitchen."

I stalked back there without another word. I wasn't exactly in the best mood, hadn't been since the pep rally, really, but definitely not since Bee waltzed into class with that shit-eating grin on her face and Jerry Thompson hanging off her every word. Darry was standing at the sink, cleaning up after dinner.

"Hey, Darry," I said, chucking him on the shoulder. He barely flinched.

"Hey, Two-Bit," he called back. "What's up?"

I jammed my hands in my pockets. "Oh, not much. Got a loan from Tim."

"So you're fucked."

"Yeah. That's a good way to put it."

I wanted to sit down, but I couldn't. I don't know when he turned around, but I could feel Darry's eyes on me. He watched me as I paced back and forth across the kitchen. It wasn't a very big kitchen in the first place, so I'd just end up turning and going back the other way every few steps. I felt like a caged tiger. That's the saying, isn't it?

"You're gonna wear a hole in my floor, Two-Bit, and don't think that just because you're in deep with Shepard don't mean I'm above making you pay to fix it."

I stopped and instead sat up on the counter. "You know Jerry Thompson?"

"Jerry Thompson?" He repeated. Darry put the rest of the leftovers in the fridge, then leaned up against the opposite counter. "Yeah, I think so. Yeah. Ain't he the quarterback at Will Rogers? Moved up to varsity a year early?"

"Exactly! That one. So you do know him?"

Darry nodded. "Yeah, a little. He's a good guy. Why? He pull shit with you? Gotta be honest, I'd be surprised if he was starting trouble."

I shook my head. "Nah, man. That's not it. It's just…well. There's this girl."

Darry actually _laughed._ "Bud, gonna tell ya now, if this girl's interested in him, and he's interested in her, you don't stand a _chance._ "

I frowned at him. "Well, gee, Darry. Tell me what ya really think."

He ducked his head. "Sorry, man. But, c'mon. You really think she'd be into you?"

I sighed. This wasn't what this was about! "I'm _not_ into her. And she's not into me! That's not what this is about! It's just…well, I happen to think she's sort of a bitch-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there."

Well, well! Excuse _me,_ Darrel Curtis, but it's not like you've never called a woman a bitch before. Darry surprised me again by reaching into the icebox and grabbing two beers, placed one in front of me, sat down at the table, and popped the lids off both. He leaned back in his chair and wrapped his hand around the bottle, staring at me with a funny little smile. "For starters, you can't go around calling nice girls bitches."

"What's with everybody thinkin' she's a 'nice girl'?" I grumbled. "She ain't."

"You don't really know that."

"I _do_ know that. You don't know her. Man, are you even gonna hear me out?"

Darry sighed, but I think what he really wanted to do was get up and leave this conversation. Or ask me to leave so he could enjoy his beer. "Sure, Two-Bit. Go ahead."

" _Finally_. So. There's this girl. And…"

And I didn't know what to say. Darry stared at me like it was a monkey sitting in his kitchen and not me. And…what? It pissed me off that she liked Jerry Thompson? Why should I care? I don't care! Jerry who? Bee Stevens? Never heard of her. "Two-Bit?"

"Yes, Darrel?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't waste my time like this. C'mon, Two-Bit. You're just pissed off because Kathy's mad at you and you're doing that whole _thing_ again where you get mad at even the _thought_ of anyone on the planet being in a relationship."

"You're exaggerating."

"Am not. You do it all the time. Because you and Kathy are on the outs. _All the time._ Just let the two of 'em be, man. Jealousy ain't a good color on you."

"I ain't jealous," I grumbled. "When's the last time you got laid, by the way?" I ask, just to get the conversation off me.

"Six months. And nice try. We ain't talking about me, we're talking about you. Look. Two-Bit. You're a dumbass. You ain't jealous because you're having trouble with Kathy. Okay? I believe you. You're jealous for another reason, _and you know it_."

XXXXX

 **AN:…and I think I'm gonna leave it there. Here we go again!**

 **Thank you for reading. If you liked, please feel free to leave a follow, fave, or my absolute favorite – a review! They make my day. Have a good one.**


	8. Kicking Ass

**Author's Note: Here's chapter eight! It's a doozy. Thank you all for your continued support – but don't think I can't see you, lurkers! I promise, I don't bite.**

 **Also – I** ** _slightly_** **changed the title. I just liked the ring of "Sins of the Saints" better, and besides, that's what it's labeled in all my files, lol. So, same story!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I do not have a crush on Bridget Stevens.

XXXXX

Remember Matt Watson? He's the asshole I beat out for two-hundred bucks. Yeah, I fought him at school.

Like I said earlier, things were getting pretty tense between socs and greasers. Nobody could exactly pinpoint _why_ , though. I'd heard some theories. Some people thought it had to do with the draft for some reason and that people were blowing off steam, but I didn't think that was it. Other people said it was over a girl- surprise, surprise. And other people thought it had to do with the North side, and that there was some…negative influence comin' out of there. That didn't make sense to me, either. Just cuz they were black didn't mean they had anything to do with what was going on between the East and West sides. Hell, out of all of them, that one made the _least_ sense. But anyway, I was just walkin' to lunch to meet up with the guys when I hear Watson coming up behind me. He shouldered up next to me.

"You fuckin' cheated me," he growled.

"No shit. And it was easy, too." I grinned at him, sizing him up. We were about the same size. I could easily take him. Alone. But a bunch of his buddies were right behind us.

And then he socked me.

So you can say whatever you want, but you can't say I started it.

"The fuck was that for?" I spat.

"For cheatin' me outta two-hundred bucks!"

"Like you'll miss it!"

And then it was _on_. I finally hit him back, and he was trying to get me by the collar, and it was just me and him going at it. I noticed that there was a group of people starting to gather around us in a circle, giving us a wide berth, oohing and aahing and chanting. I pinned him up to the lockers and started taunting him. His nose was bleeding all over the place, and my jaw was sore and my knuckles were split.

"That's all ya got, Watson? Huh? C' _mon!_ C'mon, just one more. Right here in the kisser."

Yeah, I was getting a little _too_ into it, but shit, I'd been pissed off and needed to blow off some steam. But so much for keepin' fights outside of school. Looking back on it, I don't think this ended up helping matters much in the long run. And that's my fault.

"Back off, Two-Bit!" Someone yelped. I whipped my head around and saw her. Bee Stevens and Missy Redar and some good-looking redhead staring at me. I hardened, keeping Watson pinned to the wall, and sneered at her.

"This ain't none of your damn business, Bee Stevens. You and your little worker bees can buzz off!"

"Did he just call us _worker bees_?" Missy whispered, and Bee turned beet red. Good. Let her be embarrassed.

Matt got brave and choked out: "Hey, man, leave the girls outta this. You ain't gonna hit a _girl_ , are you?" I turned back to him and glared, telling him silently to just _shut up._

"Just leave him alone, Two-Bit!" Bee tried again.

"How 'bout you just get on outta here, doll face?" Somebody shouted at her, and everyone started agreeing and urging the three of them to leave. Hearing people shout at her-not exactly Missy and the redhead, but Bee-…that pissed me off. She had no clue what all this was. She was new. Leave her out of it. But she'd made her way into the circle a bit, away from the crowd, and it struck me that _I_ was the one she was telling to back off. Why me? I didn't start this, remember? I let go of Matt and he dropped to the floor.

"Back off _Two-Bit_?" I snarled, walking up to her. "What about that scumbag?" I asked, pointing to Matt. I shook my head. How was I s'posed to get her to understand in a few moments the situation that had been my entire life? That's why I said, but probably should have kept to myself, "What am I s'posed to do with someone like you?"

Bee opened her mouth, but was smart enough to not say anything. Suddenly, I felt ashamed. And kind of embarrassed. As if she didn't have enough reasons to hate me.

"Mr. Mathews!"

Ah, _fuck._ The last thing I needed. Watson seemed to have escaped, and one of Will Rogers' batty teachers, Mrs. Bloom, came thundering towards us, red-faced, parting the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea.

"Mr. Mathews, would you care to explain exactly what is going on here?" She asked me. Holy _shit_ , I was not in the mood for this. Adults don't get it. They don't get our beef, they don't know what's going on…

" _Mr. Mathews?"_

"Ma'am, really, it was nothin'. Just takin' care of some personal business. I swear!"

Mrs. Bloom just rolled her eyes and shook her head. She turned to Bee instead, I guess in hopes of getting the story straight.

"Miss Stevens, would you care to explain what you saw?"

She shot a sideways glance at me, then nervously began. "They were fighting. A-A-and I told them they needed to stop."

That was it? That was it. She just shrugged at Mrs. Bloom, looked at me again, and I glared at her. That was bullshit. Total _bullshit._ Mrs. Bloom looked back at me. Like I was the scum of the earth. "You come with me, Mr. Mathews," she said.

"But ma'am-"

"Right. Now," she growled.

And the old bat grabbed my arm and dragged me with her to the principal's office. Watson had gotten away.

XXXXX

I'm not new to detention. Not at all. And I'm not used to spending it without any of my buddies there, either. Hell, most of the time, I'm in there because I've pissed off one of the teachers or pissed off _somebody_ , and then Steve, Pony, and Johnny are stuck waiting around for me to give them a lift home.

Steve really needs to get his own ride.

 _Any_ ways, getting detention in and of itself doesn't exactly bug me. But this time, it sorta did. Because like I said, I didn't start this one. And it's no fair pulling me into a fight because I ain't gonna be able to stop myself. I've barely got any self-control. And Bee Stevens, looking at me like some sorta goddamn criminal. Didn't feel real good. Cuz I don't _think_ I'm exactly what you would call a criminal. I think. Dallas is a criminal. _Tim Shepard_ is a criminal. I'm just a petty theif, a disturbance to the peace. But Stevens looked at me like I was about to turn on her next.

Which I would never do.

Look, I know I'm not the most upstanding guy. Alright? But I've already told you I don't like making girls cry. And I sure as hell would never hit one. I've seen what that does to somebody. Johnny's old man beats his old lady, so she turned on Johnny. It made her mean. My ma's come home with a few bruises I knew were there because of some old drunk, not just her being clumsy. And that makes _me_ mean.

You don't hit girls. Even Dallas knows that. He's never beat Sylvia.

What this all added up to was three days of after school detention and a hell of a guilty conscience, and I guess that's the idea. You're supposed to sit there and feel remorseful or some shit, but that wasn't what happened. But it gave me a lot of time to think. Which is never a good thing. But I won't bore you with specifics. Detention is detention. Hell of a lot more boring than spending a night in the drunk tank, that's for sure. I'll spare you the details on what the room looked like, how many pieces of gum I chewed, how many paper airplanes I threw at the teacher, how many times I flicked my favorite blade opened and then closed. But as I said, three days of what is essentially school-sanctioned solitary confinement, I had some time to think.

And after three days, here is the conclusion I grudgingly came to.

 _Wednesday_

"You got in trouble. Didn't you? That is why you are late," My mother asked me when I got home. I sighed and closed my eyes. It had only been a day. I had two more. I couldn't handle her looking at me like this. This whole… _disappointment_ thing was really starting to mellow me out. And not in the fun, riding-the-high way.

"Ma-"

"Badly?"

Mom was all dressed to head out for work, and while she looked more concerned than anything, I knew this was the last thing on Earth she wanted to be dealing with right now. "Remember that two-hundred bucks I gave you a while back?" She nodded slowly, eyes sad. "I got it for you fair, Ma. It's just that people like him keep a pretty tight grip on their wallets."

"He will…he won't make us pay it back, will he?"

I sat down at the kitchen table. I felt too young to be having this conversation. Is this what Darry felt like? Sitting alone, sometimes with Soda, having to pay bills? Fuck money, that's what I say! "No," I finally said, trying to sound reassuring. "It's not a loan. It's _ours_. He's the one who threw it away."

Mom worried on her bottom lip. When she came to America, is this what she thought would happen? She's been dealt a horrible hand. Deadbeat husband. Deadbeat son. Two kids she's had to raise on her own. She lived on the bad side of town – in a better house than we used to, sure, and with nice people in the neighborhood like the Curtises, it wasn't so bad, but still. Especially with Maggie and Darrel Senior dead – which ain't exactly the sort of _moving up in the world_ I'm sure she'd been expecting. I felt sorry for her. I felt _guilty._ That was it. If I'm bein' honest, this whole mess was starting to make dropping out sound real appealing.

"Mom?"

"Keith?"

I sighed. Time to man up, I s'pose. "Ma, I've been thinkin.'"

"What about?"

"I was thinkin'…about maybe droppin' outta school." Ma instantly started shaking her head, and I realized that this was probably the last thing she'd imagined, the last thing she'd want for her kids, but _Lordy,_ it was clear she needed help. I was sick of watchin' her struggle like this. "Ma, hear me out. Look, I ain't learnin' anything there anymore, all I do is get in trouble!" I laughed, trying to make her see that this would be okay. "Mom, really! I've been hangin' around there for years. And you're a tough lady, I know that, but I can help you out. You and Sadie both."

Ma kept shaking her head. "No. No, Keith. You will not do that. You _will not_."

I deflated a bit and rolled my eyes. "What's stoppin' me, huh?"

" _I am_ ," she said seriously. "Keith Mathews, I will not have you leaving school."

"Why not?" I laughed, but really, I was getting frustrated, which is weird, because I'm a pretty easy-going guy. That's what I've heard. "Mom, I could help you. This latest thing…it's makin' more and more sense for me to drop out. Like Sodapop did."

Ma turned on me, eyes alight with anger, and I figured maybe she was angry enough she'd start chewing me out in Italian, which was actually kinda terrifying, because then there was no holding her back, even if I couldn't understand everything she was saying. My mother was a tough lady. "That poor boy _had_ to do that," she said, voice thick, maybe with tears. "Maggie and his husband are gone. They have died. And…Darrel Junior…" – that's what Mom always called Darry. Darrel Junior. Sometimes, I forget he and his old man share a name. I wonder if he forgets sometimes, too. But Mom had been calling Darry that ever since she'd found out he was a junior from Mrs. Curtis. The two of them used to be friends. – "He and his brother are good boys. Boys. _Ragazzi._ " She put a hand on my cheek. "Sei un _ragazzo_ , Keith." (I'd lost her. She'd quit on the English, so now I really had to listen to her. Maybe that was the idea. She said, "You are a boy, Keith.") "Ho dato molto per mantenerlo in questo modo." (Um. I _think_ that's, "I've had to give a lot to keep it that way." Yeah.) Ma was starting to sound weepy, which made me feel like total crap, because what asshole feels good when he makes his mother cry? "La cessazione sarebbe cassata! Non ho lasciato il mio paese per il figlio a smettere. Dovete alla tua famiglia finire. Mio padre sarebbe rotto nella sua tomba se avesse appreso che il nipote Americano aveva lasciato la scuola! Non e quello che sono venuto per l'America! Non ho lasciato la mia famiglia solo per te a smettere. Non e quest oil ' _sogno Americano_ ' che mi e stato promesso!" (Something about how quitting is giving in, she didn't leave Italy for her son to be a quitter, Grandpa would be rolling over in his grave if I quit, she didn't leave her family just for me to quit because that isn't the 'American Dream' or some shit.)

"Mama," I cut in softly, hoping to break through to her just a bit, using a name for her I hadn't used since before my old man left. I grabbed her hands to make sure she was looking at me. "Mama, I'm sorry. I won't do it. Okay? I won't quit school. Wouldn't want to disappoint your dad, right? He'd haunt us. Mama, I'm sorry."

There were tears rolling down her cheeks. So she had been crying. "You will not quit?" She said, though she said it like a question. At least she was back to using English. I smiled my broadest, I'm-a-good-boy smile at her.

"Cross my heart. I'm sorry I even brought it up. Forgive me, Mama."

"I forgive you," she said softly. "I want what is best for you. And for your sister. Please understand, Keith. You will graduate, and I will be happy with that. It will all have been worth it."

I sighed. "Yeah. I guess so. Maybe I could find a way to get you some money in the meantime, while staying in school," I suggested, though it's not really what I wanted. But Mom smiled, like she was pleased with the idea.

"You will find a way, then." She patted my cheek, which _really_ made me feel like a little kid. Ma was grabbing her purse, about to leave the house, when she turned back to me. "Keith?"

"Yeah, ma?"

"Did you make friends with that girl yet? The one who is _not_ the bag girl I do not like?" She laughed at her little joke, and I had to try real hard not to roll my eyes.

"Not just yet!" I told her, teeth clenched, having to try _reeeeeeeeeeeaaaaallllllllllyyyyyyyyyy_ hard not to sound like a sarcastic asshole, which, to be fair, is what I am.

"Well, you make sure to. Have a good night, Keith. Watch your sister."

It was a good thing Mom was gone before I had the chance to tell her that ' _that girl'_ was the reason I was in detention in the first place.

 _Thursday_

"How's detention been treating you?"

I shrugged. It was a slow night at the DX. But it was a nice night. It was getting colder. Halloween was coming, and Mom had already told me that she was gonna make me take Sadie Trick-or-Treating this year. Last year, me and Dallas went out and got blitzed, and I didn't show up back home until almost midnight on All Saint's Day, and Mom was pissed because that was a holy day or whatever, and here I was, hungover and reeking of vodka. She said the smell reminded her too much of her brother.

Mom's been weird lately. Talking about family and the future and all that. I don't know if I should be worried or not.

"Dandy," I told Steve. " _Fine_ and dandy. Feel like joinin' me for my last day tomorrow?"

"Nup," Steve said cheerfully. "Can't exactly say sitting on my ass is high on my list of ways to spend my time, unlike you."

"Ouch."

Steve barked a laugh. "What the hell have you even been doing in there? Huh? Three afternoons of detention, man. What a waste of time."

"You're telling me. Mind if I grab a Coke?"

"Long as you pay for it."

I pulled one out of the cooler and paid for it, and Steve tossed my coins into the register. "So? Whaddya doin' in there?"

I took a long pull of my Coke before answering because I knew making him wait would annoy him. His scowl told me I'd done the job. "Remember when you were younger, and you had all them curls? Really made you look like the Jew you are."

"Oh, fuck off, man." Steve flipped me off while I cackled at him.

"Aw, c'mon, Stevie! They were real becomin'! Maybe you should trade in hair grease for a perm, huh?"

"Would you shut up about my hair and just answer my fuckin' question?"

"Alright, _fine_. Ain't like you haven't been in detention for more'n a day before, Randle. But I just sit there. And I sit there. And I sit there. _And I sit there_. And I think of all the ways I'm gonna kick Matthew Watson's _ass_ next time he thinks he can fuck with me. Right now, the front-runner is walkin' up to him in the hall and just kneein' him in the balls, but runnin' him over with my car is a close second, but I don't exactly wanna get thrown in jail for murder."

Steve laughed. "Kinda dark for you, man."

"Yeah, well, he made my mom cry, so…"

"He made your mom _cry?"_ Steve looked at me like he hadn't heard me right. " _How?_ Your mom's tough. He made her cry? When? When did he even _see_ her?"

"Well, he didn't do it _directly._ I beat him out for two hundred bucks, and that went to my mother, got it? Well, on Tuesday, Watson gets into the fight with me – which is a dumbass move, but what's done is done – because he finally caught up with me. I dunno, maybe he wants me to pay him back, but I won that money fair and square! He ain't seein' a dime from _me,_ certainly not when Ma needs it so bad."

"So how'd he make your mother cry?"

I sheepishly scratched at my sideburn. "Well. He sorta _indirectly_ made her cry. I came home late yesterday, and I told her about the fight, why it happened. She got scared. That's all."

"Shit, man. She's okay, though?"

The guys liked my old lady. Did even when Mrs. Curtis was alive. She was one of the only mothers on our side of town worth bothering with, if you ask me. With Mrs. Curtis gone, she's good for a meal or a substitute for whoever isn't there. Johnny hangs around my place sometimes, and I think he comes to hang with her, not me. She's workin' on fattening that kid up. Italian food is good for that. "Yeah, she's okay. Thanks for askin.'"

"Yeah, man. No problem."

I raised an eyebrow. Steve had gotten kinda quiet, and kinda _nice_ , which made the whole scene FUBAR. Quiet night, quiet Steven Randle handling the register during the night shift while Sodapop had the night off. I smiled at him. "Somethin' on your mind, Stevie-boy?"

"Nothin', Two-Bit, nothin'. Just wanna get outta here."

"I hear ya. Steven?"

Steve closed his eyes and sighed through his nose. With his eyes still closed he asked, "Yeah, Two-Bit?"

"You think I should drop out?"

Steve's eyes tiredly popped open. "Drop out?"

"Yeah. Do you think I should?"

"Shit, Two-Bit. Why?"

"I got money problems, that's why."

"We all got money problems."

"You know what I mean."

Steve yawned. He was resting his head in his hands. "You plannin' on finally graduating?"

"That's what my mother wants me to do."

"Well, you give her enough shit that you owe her at least that much. Don't drop out, Two-Bit."

I grinned sheepishly at him. Let the air settle between us. Felt weird asking Steve for advice. Especially when I was getting so many different answers. He and Ma said _don't_. Soda and Dally said _do_. I was fifty-fifty so far. But Steve was right – I didn't want to disappoint my mother. At least, not any more than I prolly already do. I knocked on the counter a couple times and flicked him a wave. "Alright. See ya, Randle."

"See ya. Say 'hi' to your ma for me."

 _Friday_

"When do you get out?"

"Mm. Four-thirty, I think. You mind waitin'?"

Johnny sighed and patted his jeans pockets. I felt bad because the kid could really use a lift. Pony had told me that he and Steve were getting a ride home from Darry, who got off early because of the rain. That was another thing – I hate rain. Or, rain like this. I don't mind just _rain,_ even if it does fuck with my hair. But it had been dark all day, lightning and thunder and shit, and there was no way I was gonna make Johnny hitch a ride or something. I ain't that shitty of a friend. "Naw, man. That's fine. I'll just hang around 'til you're out. It's only a couple hours. I'll see ya later, Two-Bit."

"See ya," I called after Johnny, who had already turned tail and was walking away. I watched his back for a few more moments before going back inside the classroom to sit down.

The past few days in here had really made me itch. And I'd had a bad day. I just wanted to get outta here, go out on the strip, maybe, and get blitzed and forget all about this day, this whole _week_. It all would've been okay if Matt Watson hadn't gotten away, the rat. If he'd gotten caught, too, if he were stuck in here with me so I could bug him, if Bee Stevens hadn't blamed it _all on me –_

Bridget Stevens, man.

The past few days had been awkward. Not that having her in class was exactly a pleasure, no. But she was somebody to talk to. Jimmy barely said a word to me anymore, which is fine, really, but c'mon. I need somebody to bother. And it wasn't like I was gonna start ragging on Missy Redar, the girl who sits in front of Jimmy. I'm a chatty guy, ya dig? And without Jimmy Hopper or Missy Redar as options, that left Stevens. You know I bug her all the time, that's a given. And she bugs me, just because she does. But that's just it. With her freezing me out after the fight, and me doing the same.

I guess I just missed having someone to pester. Heh. That, uh, sounds kinda stupid. I know, I know. Because you know what? I think I kinda missed having someone to talk to, and she was the only one in there on speaking terms with me. If I weren't such a damn gossip, this wouldn't be a problem. So this morning, I'm sitting in class, ignoring Mr. James' lecture, staring at the back of her head, telepathically willing her to drop a note on my desk, trying to get up the nerve to do the same, when it hits me like a ton of bricks.

The classrooms in this school are grey. And this one was an interior classroom, so there were no windows, nothing to distract myself with. Couldn't watch the lightning, but I could hear the thunder, feel it shake the foundations. Some guy was drumming a pencil against his desk. Another was snapping his gum. Another was playing with his lighter. It was a full house for a Friday. I saw a guy I knew from the Shepard Gang and whistled at him, and he just grinned at me and flipped me off. Good to know you have an ally.

"Keep it down."

The detention monitor didn't even look up when he scolded us, so who were we to take him seriously?

Where was I? Yeah, _it_ hitting me like a ton of bricks. I'll get there. Give me a sec.

There were two things I learned in detention that week. When I was just sitting there, with nothing else to do but play with my blade. One was that I wouldn't drop out, much as I wanted to. And it wasn't because I didn't want to work – hell, it wasn't even because I didn't want to join the army. It suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks why I didn't want to leave, and I felt like a real jerk, because the reason wasn't Pony or Johnny, or even Steve, because he's a pain in my ass and it's not like he needs lookin' after. Jesus, I hate myself for this. What about Kathy, huh? Ain't I supposed to be in love with _her?_ And Darrel Shayne Curtis-fuckin'-junior has got me all wrong! I ain't jealous of Jerry Thompson. Right? _Right?_ Crushes are for stupid third graders. For ugly chicks with big glasses and braces and pigtails. For geeks. For squares. For kids. I'm a grown-ass man! Look at me! I can kill a spider without crying (unlike Steve), I get in fights, I have a car, I can play a mean hand of poker, I've been screwin' women since I was fourteen years old, I can grow a beard if I wanted to (unlike Ponyboy, who asks me and Darry and Soda and just about _everybody_ every other day when they started shaving), and I can drink anybody who comes my way under the table. Yeah, I don't need school. I don't care about what they're saying because everything I've ever needed to learn I've already learned. But I can't leave. I _can't_.

So what is this other thing, you ask?

I'll tell you the _other thing_. I let myself realize it on Friday morning, when I hadn't even gone in for detention yet. It hit me so all-of-a-sudden that it felt like a punch to the gut – a feeling I know all too well.

XXXXX

I have a fucking _crush_ on _Bridget Stevens._

XXXXX

 **AN: I know a** ** _bit_** **of Italian, but trust me – most of that was Google Translate. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Apologies for any mistakes!**

 **Thanks for reading! Hope you liked. If you did, I'd** ** _greatly_** **appreciate if you followed, faved, or reviewed. Reviews are my drug, ya know. ;)**


	9. The Trick, Pal, is Not to Mind It

**Author's Note: Here's chapter nine! Thank you all for your continued support.**

 **Here's a bit of a non-sequitur: look up images of Will Rogers High School, the school the kids go to in** ** _The Outsiders_** **. For a high school, it's pretty gorgeous. The libraries are beautiful. Very art deco!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"You going to that girl's party on Saturday?" Jimmy asked. I shrugged. Word had gotten out that Vickie Harper was throwing a house party this weekend, and I think that's exactly how she wanted it. Jimmy and I were back on speaking terms. I don't quite know how I feel about that yet. Because the more I think about – yeah, I never really _liked_ him, and we were never really buddies or anything, but I could put up with him. Now, even though we'd taught him a lesson, I didn't want him talking to me. Because even though we were pretty positive he'd never do it again, that doesn't change the fact that he'd made Bee Stevens cry.

And, as we've established, I unfortunately… _have a thing for her._ Problem is, I ain't the only one. How am I s'posed to compete with the star quarterback? Speaking as one of the best friends of the _former_ quarterback, I knew I didn't stand a chance against Jerry. But I'd give it the ol' college (or, twice-a-junior-in-high-school) try.

"Maybe. I dunno yet. I haven't heard of anythin' better to do. Who all's gonna be there?"

"Bunch of socs, but I bet if we spread the word around, we could get some of our boys to show up."

"Yeah, I could prolly get Dallas and Steve to come. And if they come, Soda prolly will too. You think you could get Rocky to come?"

"I think. Curly will probably tag along too."

"See if you-"

"Mr. Mathews!"

My head snapped up, and there was Mr. James. He was trying real hard to look like he was pissed at me, but I could see him trying not to smile. He hates to admit it, but he likes me. But he always gets me in trouble, not Jimmy, and I don't see why.

"Yessir?" I asked, grinning at him.

"Please take the time to arrange your social calendar at some other time, would you? That goes for you as well, Mr. Hopper. The rest of us are busy, as I'm sure you can see."

And Bridget was looking at me, Lord above, she was just staring at me, like everyone else, and I didn't know what to say or why she was looking at me differently than everybody else, so I just winked at her. "No problem, Mr. James," he grinned.

And that was that. Jimmy didn't say anything else to me for the rest of class, knowing for once to keep out of trouble.

Mr. James kept talking for a while, and I tuned him out like usual and just sorta stared at my desk. Why take notes on something you don't care about? When the bell rang, I slowly looked up, saw Bee gathering her stuff and heading out the door. I smirked to myself, getting an idea. I followed her.

"'Ey! Bee!"

She stopped dead in her tracks, allowing me to catch up to her. If she'd known better, if she were really as bad as some people said she was, she woulda kept walking. But she didn't.

"You going to that party this weekend?" I asked. She looked surprised I was asking.

"Well, yeah," she said slowly, looking at me like she thought there was a catch. Which, there wasn't. I just wasn't gonna go if _she_ wasn't gonna go. "Why wouldn't I? Vickie and I are friends. She invited me."

I smiled at her. "No reason why she wouldn't. Just wonderin'. This somethin' you gotta look nice for?"

"Well, I _guess_. Vick told me that I had better be there, and that 'my ass better look good', so I guess so."

Well that made me laugh. "You shouldn't have a problem with that. Wear one of those little red numbers you've got...And you're golden, kid." Where the fuck did that come from? Why can't I keep my mouth shut? Dammit, Two-Bit. Bridget looked at me funny.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! Just…Vickie has friends with standards, we all know that. And I sure as hell have noticed that you have standards of your own. Why can't I just be curious?"

"You can be. Just not about what I choose to wear to a party, that's all."

Ah. Okay. I nodded, scratched one of my sideburns. Made sense, I s'pose. "Ah. I see. Well then. I s'pose you probably wanna get off to class then, huh?" People were looking at us. I saw the funny looks, the squinty eyes, the whispering. It don't bother me much, but I knew it bothered her. So she nodded. "I'll let you go on your way then."

She turned to leave, giving me a weak little smile, like she was just trying to look like she was being nice, and suddenly I knew that I just had to make sure she _knew_ that I meant what I said. "Wait!"

She turned around, eyebrows raised. And I just smiled. And I think that's when I really knew. Maybe I was trying to tell her.

"You look real good in red, Bee Stevens."

XXXXX

I stared at Tim, open-mouthed. How had I _not_ heard about this? Dally could be real secretive, but this was a whole new level. "You're _kidding_ me."

Tim shook his head. "'Fraid not. Locked up for ninety days."

"Ninety days," I repeated. "Well, shit. I needed him to be my wingman this weekend!"

Tim actually _laughed_ , a real laugh. Tim was a scary guy, a pretty mean guy, I won't lie. And like I've said, he's a _fuck_. But I'm not sure he's… _bad_. It's weird. He's a criminal. He's blackmailing me. He's the leader of the shadiest gang in the city. But he's got his own weird set of morals. He's loyal. He's a cheat, but he's bluntly honest. I was in and out of his good graces. Right now, I didn't know where I stood with him, but he was laughing, so maybe I was okay for now.

"Some wingman he makes," Tim scoffed. "More'n likely he'll end up stealing the girl you're after."

It was my turn to laugh. It was true – partly. A lot of girls on our side of town would've loved to get in Dallas Winston's pants. Partly because they knew it would make Sylvia angry, and a lot of gals hated Sylvia Capoletti. Hell, I think _Dallas_ hated Sylvia, sometimes. But the girl I was after didn't want Dallas, and Dallas sure didn't want her. But, best to play it safe. Well, I mean…you know what I mean. Dallas was in jail. He was a non-problem. "Don't think this gal would go for his type."

Tim raised his eyebrows and took a drag off his cigarette, amused. "Well, well, Mathews. Sounds like a classy chick. What – she's one of the only girls on this side of town that _isn't_ a virgin? She waitin' for just the right one?"

"I don't know about that. I just don't she ain't exactly one for criminals – which means she won't be goin' for you, either."

"Fine by me. I like my lays to have experience."

I rolled my eyes. That was Tim for you. "I'm not trying to get laid, Timmy. Give me some credit. I can be a real gentleman when I want to be! A regular knight in shining armor!"

"Oh, _sure._ Say, what happened to Kathy – that's her name, right? What happened to you and her?"

"What happened?" I repeated. Nothing had happened. Maybe that was part of the problem. Yeah, I'd seen Kathy a few times since that time in front of the church. We'd gone on a few more dates, by ourselves or with some friends. Steve and Evie were like an old married couple, as always. I was stuck watching Sodapop fall head-over-heels in love with Sandy, not sure she was returning the favor yet or not. And the two of us, me and Kathy, were the same as always and somehow worse at the same time. I got how Soda felt, though, falling for a girl that might not be falling for you. But we didn't say anything to him about it. "Nothing. We're aces. Why do you even care?"

Tim shrugged. It hit me then that to anyone else, it would look like the two of us were hanging out. We were two greasers hanging out in a smoke-filled dive, drinking and talking shit and laughing. I didn't want people getting the wrong impression. "Well, I knew you weren't exactly into the whole monogamy thing. Was just curious. Shoot me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I will."

"That a threat?"

"An empty one."

Tim smiled again, dangerously. Made that scar on his cheek wrinkle. I tried hard not to grimace. Some tramp had given it to him a long time ago. It had healed over, but it was pinkish and rose off his face, long and deep. Wouldn't want that as my defining feature. Guess that's what I have the sideburns for. "You're funny, Mathews."

I pretended to be bashful. Batted my eyes. "Aw, Tim, you _shouldn't_." But I quickly changed demeanor when he didn't laugh. That woulda worked on Ponyboy for sure. "I know I'm funny. Don't gotta tell me that. Everyone already knows it."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, Two-Bit – I gotta head out." He put a few bucks down on the table. "But I wanna make sure you remember to get me my money. I'm sure you're workin' on that. Ain't you?"

I swallowed roughly. I wanted to say I'd made a decent dent in my debt to him, but the truth was that I hadn't, exactly. It was a little dent. Maybe a medium dent. Maybe. But the longer I hesitated, the longer Tim would have to figure out I wasn't really working on it.

"'Course, Tim. I'll get it to you on time."

Tim stood up and patted my shoulder, gave me a quick nod, and was out the door. I remembered what Dally said, about how I didn't want to know what Tim did to guys who didn't make good on their promises to him. I had a bad feeling I was about to find out.

XXXXX

"I can't believe you roped me into this. I know some of these people."

"So do I!"

"Two-Bit, I can't fucking believe you."

"Well, believe me, and believe this – I've dragged you here to this party, and we're gonna drink, and it's gonna be great cuz you need to get out of the house. Got it?"

"You think Ponyboy and Johnny are okay? I know they're just at the movies, but –"

"Darry."

"What?"

"Calm down. Pony and Johnny are fine. They can handle themselves. C'mon, haven't we talked about this? That if you don't stop worryin' so much, you're gonna give yourself an ulcer?" I raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed. He needed to have more fun. I know it's hard on him – all of it. Just…all of it. But if he can't let loose once in a while, then he's gonna be completely gray before Ponyboy leaves for college. "Dally's locked up. Johnny and Ponyboy are at the movies. Steve and Soda are already in there. There! – now you know where everybody is! So stop worryin' and have a good time."

"It's not just them I'm worried about." Darry looked kinda embarrassed. "It's just that…like I said, I _know_ people who are gonna be here."

"So?"

 _"_ _So,_ I haven't really seen any of them since Mom and Dad died."

"You hung out with a few of 'em over the summer."

"But it ain't the same, Two-Bit. They're in college, or planning for it. I'm an old man and I'm twenty years old. It's gonna be awkward."

I frowned. A lot of people still really liked Darry – all his old buddies and the guys that played under him when he was playing ball in high school. He was a local hero. An urban legend at Will Rogers High School. He was the Roper quarterback that led us to a state title. So maybe a few people thought less of him now. But I knew people admired what he'd done – I knew me and the rest of the gang did.

"Dare, it's gonna be _fine_. Promise. Just try to have a good time, okay?"

Darry considered it, then sighed in defeat. "Alright. For _you._ And only cuz you said you needed a wingman." As we headed into the house, into the noise and music and loud laughter, Darry asked, "Hey – ain't this Vickie Harper's place? Didn't you have a crush on her, like, freshman year?"

I groaned. I was hoping he wouldn't bring that up. "No," I lied.

"No…I think you did…"

"Alright! Alright, _I did_. Happy?"

Darry grinned. "Very. Now let's go find my brother and his dumbass friend."

"Bet Soda's saying the same thing."

Soda and Steve were hanging out in the basement, which seemed to be where most of the people from our side of town had ended up. This was more our scene. Upstairs, it was mostly socs, some middle class kids, too, but that didn't mean we could really hang out up there. Us East side kids were crashing this thing – and we seemed to be having a better time, in my opinion. The kids upstairs were boppin' around to Bobby Darin in their khakis and dresses, but down here…was my kind of party. Rolling Stones on the stereo, free-flowing booze, and the girls were wearing a lot less clothing.

Still, I was kinda hoping I'd run into Bee, anyway. Just to say hi. Strike up a little conversation. Try to make her see I really ain't _so_ bad. You know how it is. But I didn't see her.

"Two-Bit, Darrel," Steve's girl, Evie, greeted us from Steve's lap. "Nice of you to join us."

"Always a pleasure, Miss Martin," I grinned, flopping down between my two buddies. Darry stood on the other side of the room with a drink in hand, halfway down the staircase, talking to some guy I didn't know. Maybe they'd gone to school together. Maybe they'd played football together. I don't know. Soda didn't seem to be paying attention to him, so I wasn't gonna ask.

"What're we doin'?" I asked.

"See that guy over there?" Soda asked, pointing. I followed his finger. Sure enough, there _was_ a guy over there, and he had a funnel in his mouth…and I knew where this was going. "We're watching him."

"Think you should go next, Two-Bit," Steve suggested, Evie enthusiastically nodding her agreement.

"You could prolly outdrink anyone in this room. This house!" She declared, finger pointed dramatically to the ceiling. I tipped my head in her direction.

"Touché. Looks like a choking hazard."

"Oh, shut up, Two-Bit," Steve laughed. "You're doing it."

I rolled my eyes – _yeah, okay_. But I still did it, Soda and Steve standing over me and chanting along with everyone else in the goddamn basement. Attention's nice, I suppose, and the buzz I got was okay. Steve apparently made ten bucks off'a me. Good for him. Soda slapped me on the back. "See? Told ya you'd be good at it!"

"Mmmm, yeah," I agreed, a little sarcasm slipping into my voice, cuz that ain't exactly a talent, letting someone shove a funnel in your mouth and pour booze into it. "Hey – I'll be back in a sec."

Soda nodded and let me go, and I wandered off a bit, scoping out the rest of the party. Chatted up a few blondes gals, one of whom was enchanted enough to slip me her number. But I'd come to this party for one reason, dragged Darry along for _one reason,_ and I was trying to see if anyone had seen her. I asked around, but it shouldn't have surprised me that none of the guys from my side of town had seen her – let alone knew who she was. But she was kinda hard to miss, what with the big hair and the whole new-girl-in-town thing going for her. Nobody had seen her, and I was too pussy to go upstairs looking for her, so maybe this had all been a waste of time. I was talking to Rocky Singer from the Shepard gang when I heard Darry's voice.

"Hey, Two-Bit!" Darry called over the crowd, waving me over. I said 'bye' to Rocky and made my way over to him.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Come get some air with me. Feel all claustrophobic."

I followed Darry upstairs and outside to the back porch, where we sat on the steps. It was a lot cooler out here than it was inside. And it did feel kinda good to get some fresh air. The smoke can get to ya sometimes, I thought, as I pulled out a cigarette and lit up. I nudged Darry's shoulder. "What's up?" I repeated around my smoke, knowing there was more to this than just him feeling a little claustrophobic, cuz I know Darry, and that guy's never been claustrophobic in his life. He sighed and hung his head.

"Man, what was I thinkin', coming here tonight? Yeah, they were nice to my _face_ , but what do you think they're sayin' now? About Mom and Dad and how I had to give up school, and how I didn't amount to _anything –"_

" _Shh,_ Darrel," I said. "Here, have a smoke."

"I don't really smoke anymore."

"Just one. C'mon. Just sit here and have a smoke with me."

Darry accepted the cigarette, lit it up himself (don't really smoke anymore, my ass), and sat back and smoked with me. It was nice and quiet, but I didn't mind this time around. Darry and I didn't have to say anything to be having a good time. Not always. Plus, the quiet made it real easy to eavesdrop on whatever couple it was behind us. They'd been talking at first, but then they'd moved on to other activities. This wasn't exactly a make-out party, but the two of them were all wrapped up in each other by the sounds of it. Think it was kinda grossing Darry out, cuz he flicked away his cigarette when he was barely halfway done with it.

"If I wanted to hear noises like that, I'd just listen to Soda chew his food. Let's get outta here."

"Alright, alright." Tonight hadn't been a total bust. I'd had some fun. Just, I didn't come here for that. I came here for a very specific reason, and I hadn't seen that reason all night. On our way out, I nudged Darry, who didn't look as amused as I was, and pointed at that tongue-locked couple. "Aw, ain't that cute. Two of our socially elite waxin' poetic for each other. Touching sight, ain't it?"

I shoulda known by their voices. _Her_ voice. But when they turned to look at us, my heart stopped. There she was, wearing red, like I'd told her to. And there _it_ was. Jerry Thompson sucking Bee Stevens' face.

Yeah. Shoulda known.

XXXXX

"Ugh, Two-Bit. What'd you _do_ last night?"

I grinned. "Got drunk off my ass and threw up in my mother's begonias. Ain't I a sight?"

Pony and Johnny stared at me – Pony like he was disgusted, Johnny like he really wasn't all that surprised. That kid _knows_ things. "I didn't think you could really get drunk anymore," Pony grumbled.

"Musta had a lot to drink," Johnny suggested. I nodded.

"I sure did. Let this be a lesson to you, kids – never get involved with women. Never, never, ever. They're evil."

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Pony proclaimed. Johnny and I snickered at his ignorance. Johnny's not really much of a womanizer, but it wasn't like he didn't _notice_ 'em.

"What's up with you and Kathy?" Johnny asked me. He was real huddled in on himself – it was cold out. Fall was _here_. I had to take Sadie trick-or-treating soon. Had to pay Shepard back soon. I decided not to dwell on that thought too long, or I'd probably throw up again cuz of the nerves.

"What's up with me an' Kathy is that Kathy's a horrible girl and I don't like her much," I said definitively. This walk was taking too long. Maybe it just felt that way because I was hungover. We'd done this walk from the Curtis's plenty of times to a diner we liked to frequent.

"Wow, Two-Bit. Tell us what you really think." I think Ponyboy is trying to talk like I do. Not a great idea.

"I thought you liked her?" Johnny asked. I shrugged.

"In theory. In practice, not so much." We finally got to the diner, and I held the door open for the two of them. They'd each been in a bit of a funk since Dally had been hauled in – he was the one who usually dragged them around town, not me. I usually hung around Darry or Steve and Soda on nights like this. I was surprised Darry let Pony out in the first place – it was a school night, after all, but that don't matter to me. We slid into a booth and I waved down the cute-ish waitress and let the two of them order. Pony's Pepsi addiction is gonna make all his teeth rot out.

"You're gonna keep your sunglasses on _inside?"_ Pony asked, full of questions. I laughed.

"Light's too bright."

"It was even too bright outside? The sun's goin' down!"

"Kid, you come to me when you get your first hangover and you tell me how bright is 'too bright.'"

"I've been hungover before," he said defiantly. He was always trying to play up, like he was some big league high schooler, when really he was a newly-minted fourteen-year-old kid who didn't know much of anything – and I say that with fond intentions, ya hear?

"Not by choice, so shut yer trap and stick to soft drinks."

" _Fine_ ," he pouted, but that didn't stop him from getting three refills.

"So are you gonna break up?" Johnny asked me, Ponyboy ignoring us while his head was up in the clouds, looking all over the place. I shook my head at him – such a space cadet. He should become an astronaut for NASA.

"With Kathy?"

"Yeah."

I shrugged and leaned back in the booth. "I dunno, Johnnycakes," I sighed. "I should, but I don't know if I will."

"You shouldn't string her along, I don't think," Johnny said, picking at his fries. "That ain't cool."

I snorted. "She deserves it. Treats me like shit. So who cares if I jerk her around a little? Ain't as bad as what she's done to me."

"What exactly has she done to you?"

"What hasn't she done? All she wants me for is sex, anyways. I don't think she actually _likes_ me, which is saying enough."

Johnny had blushed at me being so blunt, but he nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I wouldn't really know."

I sighed. I shouldn't be dumping all my shit on them. "Sorry, man. I'm just…this headache, ya know…"

"You don't have to explain. I get it, man."

That was the thing about Johnny – he didn't push you. He knew when you didn't want to talk about something. And I don't think that had much to do with the fact that he was shy, or a bit nervous. Johnny was just a good buddy. Just a good guy. Better than I was. "Thanks, Johnny."

"Yeah," he breathed. "No problem."

Johnny looked over at Pony, and I followed his gaze to see that the kid was blowing bubbles in his Pepsi, totally entranced until I waved my hand in front of his face. Snapped my fingers. I pushed my sunglasses up on my head as he slowly looked up, looked at each of us sheepishly and smiled.

"What'd I miss?"

XXXXX

 **AN: In case you're curious…yes – this is the ninety days' time Dallas gets out of early for good behavior at the beginning of the book. We creep closer to canon…**

 **Hope you enjoyed! If you did, be sure to let me know with a fave, follow, or – best of all – review! It makes my day. Have a good one :)**


	10. The Way We Were

**Author's Note: Here's chapter ten! Our last chapter before we dive into canon events….**

 **Thank you so much for all of your continued reviews and support. It means the world to me. Also – thanks to lulusgardenfli for their help with this chapter. Thank you, lulu, and be sure to check out her story! It's wonderful.**

 **Happy reading. :)**

XXXXX

"Alright, Miss Sadie – let's get this show on the road."

It was Halloween night, and instead of going out and partying with my buddies like I would have _liked_ to have been doing, I was stuck taking my kid sister out for trick-or-treats. And Mom had asked that I drive her to a nicer neighborhood. Sure, kids were out in ours, but our neighborhood wasn't so great, and somebody always caused trouble. That somebody was usually me, but, I thought sourly, not this year.

"I'm coming, I'm _coming!"_ She called to me, then hustled out to the front porch, all dressed up in her costume. I tried to convince her to go as a ghost – easy and cheap! – but she was dead-set on being a cowgirl, so Mom got her all outfitted. It was cute, I gotta admit. The little drawn-on freckles and red hat and vest, complete with that toothy grin…yeah, she'd make out like a bandit tonight.

"Well, well! Don't you like fine! What, no horse? No noble steed? Or steer of cattle?"

She shook her head cheerfully. "Nup! Can we go now, Keith?"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get."

The neighborhood we ended up in was hoppin' with kids all dressed up in their costumes. Bedsheet ghosts, Frankensteins, witches, fairy godmothers, characters from _the Wizard of Oz_. I'd never been one to really like dressing up. The guys and I quit trick-or-treating a long time ago. Now, Halloween was less about treats and more about tricks and getting blitzed. _That_ was my kind of Halloween – TP'ing a house and then getting soused. That's what I'd done last Halloween, and that's why I was on babysitting duty tonight. But, with Dallas in the cooler, Steve and Soda workin', and Pony nagging Darry to let him and Johnny get candy to pass out to the kids in our neighborhood, there wasn't anybody I really wanted to party _with_. So, in the end, I guess this was fine.

"Janie's neighborhood is nearby. Think we'll see her?" Sadie asked me.

"Prolly not. There's a lotta kids out here. But maybe we will," I added, seeing Sadie's face slip into disappointment. "Your bag getting too heavy?"

Sadie was carrying around one of our old white pillowcases, and it was already pretty full. "Nup. I can still carry it."

"You sure?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Keith. Alright – I'm gonna go around the cul-de-sac. _Wait here_. I'll be right back!"

She ran off, little spurs clicking against her boots. Sadie was holding onto her bag with one hand and was keeping her hat on her head with the other. As I watched her bouncing along the cul-de-sac, knocking on doors and collecting candy, I had the odd thought that she shouldn't have had to tell me to stay put. I'd never left her behind on the street, letting her fend for herself. Hell, I'd never do that! She's a kid. And, ya know, I _love_ her and all, cuz she's my kid sister and I wouldn't just let anything happen to her. But had she gotten used to the idea that I just wasn't around much? I took a swig of what I had hidden in the brown paper bag I'd been carrying around, and figured it'd be better if I'd been carrying around and spittin' out snuff while I was walking with her, instead of drinking.

"Excuse me?"

I was jolted outta my thoughts and saw a couple of nice-looking girls beside me. I'd maybe seen them around school before, but I wasn't sure. I turned on the charm anyways.

"May I help you ladies?"

They tittered. "Are you Two-Bit Mathews?"

I grinned. "Indeed I am! Two-Bit Mathews, at your service." I ducked my head like I was bowing, and that set them off again.

"Well, I guess they were right – you _are_ funny," one of them said. She had her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a ribbon. She was pretty easy on the eyes, and so was her friend, who had her hair in a perfect brunette up-do.

"Who's 'they'?" I asked.

"Oh – nobody," the brunette said, waving her hand.

"Oh, c'mon, Betty." Blondie turned to me. "That new girl – Bridget Stevens – we overheard her saying to Jerry Thompson at the dance hall the other night that _she_ thought you were funny." She said Bridget's name like she was talking about the Queen of England, and not some socialite. She seemed to consider me for a minute. "She said you were annoying, but…funny. Now, we've only known you a few minutes, but I think you're funny. I don't know about annoying, though."

Oh, I was annoyed alright, hearing about Bee Stevens talkin' 'bout me like some pest, but I didn't let it show. "Well, then I guess we're gonna have to get to know each other better, won't we?"

The two of them laughed again, and just as I was about to ask for their numbers so we could further this conversation, Sadie appeared back at my side. "Keith, I'm ready to move on to the next street."

"Your real name's _Keith?"_ Up-do asked. "I didn't know that!"

"Yep!" My sister confirmed. "Keith David Mathews. I don't see why nobody calls him that though. Two-Bit's a silly name."

My eye twitched. I wasn't about to let a nine-year-old ruin my rep, now was I? "Yep, sure is! C'mon, Sadie, let's get a move on. Nice meeting you ladies."

The two of them kept calling after me, but I grabbed Sadie's hand and dragged her along with me. "Keith, stop! You're pulling too hard!"

"Sorry, sorry," I mumbled. I threw my booze into someone's yard and lit up a cigarette. Pfft. Bee Stevens and Jerry Thompson. They'd become an item real quick in the past couple weeks, and it pissed me off to no end.

"Who were those girls?"

"Huh? Oh, nobody."

"Keith?"

"Yeah."

"Are you broken up with Kathy yet?"

Am I broken up with Kathy _yet?_ What, like she'd been waiting for it? "No, not yet. Not officially."

Sadie hummed. "Well. You should soon. That way you could date one of those girls. They seemed nice."

Well, sure they did. It's just that neither of them was the girl I wanted. "Yeah, maybe." I sighed and blew out a few smoke rings. "C'mon, girly-girl. Let's get you some more candy."

XXXXX

I shouldn't be allowed in churches. Let's just get that out of the way. But on All Saint's Day, my mother and sister managed to drag me along with them Saint Mary's, dressed all sharp in the only dress clothes I own. Mom and Sadie are regular church-goers. Good Catholics. I know for a fact, though, that Sadie milks it to get new clothes because she tells Ma that she'll wear 'em to church, so my kid sister has a bunch more nice duds than I do. She prays every night before bed, and if I'm home, I can hear her little kid voice and Mom's heavily accented one mix together. My sister's a better person than I am, or she's going to be. But I don't think that has anything to do with God or religion or whether or not you've always been a pro at taking communion or you dropped the cracker right off your tongue the first time (my mother…I swear, she almost _died_. But Sadie's a natural!) I wasn't made for this pious life that, at the very least, my mother leads and Sadie follows in – for the time being. And I'm not saying religion even makes you _good_. I'm saying that I don't think God is gonna be the reason I stop being a jackass.

The whole thing about All Saint's Day Mass is that it is, as my mother put it, a "holy day of obligation." Which means she didn't care what I said or what else I had planned; she was gonna drag me here no matter what. Because if I didn't, my soul would probably descend immediately to Hell, do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.

Then there was some singing, like there is. Hymns I didn't know the words to, but that Sadie sang along to, our mother occasionally beaming with pride at her good Catholic daughter. Mom made sure we were quiet, as this was, in her words, a very serious occasion. Well, what she'd actually said was, _"Onoriamo i morti. Dobbiamo prenderla seriamente e tranquillamente. Siamo fortunate ad essere vivi. Sei entrambi giovane e fortunato per essere vivo."_ (Which was her _nice_ way of telling us to sit down and shut up or otherwise disrespect the dead.) And the whole thing was long and serious and I couldn't barely keep still. Lord above – I was _grateful_ when we got to the cemetery because then I could get the weird, stiff feeling out of my legs.

"I don't like the cemetery part," Sadie confided to me after the whole deal. I had loosened my tie and let it hang around my neck. The two of us were sitting together in the kitchen eating lunch while Mom headed to the grocery store to get some things for dinner.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's full of spooks and stuff."

"What makes you think that?"

She shrugged. "That's what Peter Lewis said at school. He told me and Janie how on Halloween night, all the spooks come out and scare people – maybe even _kill_ 'em."

I raised an eyebrow. "That so," I drawled, not particularly happy with this Peter Lewis for sticking these kinds of thoughts in my kid sister's head. "Well, I'm not sure about that."

" _I_ am," Sadie said defiantly. "Why do we go to church to honor the dead if they're just gonna come back and spook us?"

Good question. Way above my paygrade, too, so I whipped something up that would sound convincing enough. "Well, the ones that're ghosts must be the ones who ain't in Heaven or Hell, so they're just angry that they don't know what's gonna happen to 'em, so they take it out on us livin' folks."

Sadie's eyes got wide. "Then if they aren't in Heaven, and they aren't in… _Hell_ …then why aren't they in Purgatory?"

"I don't know. But hey – today ain't Halloween. Why weren't you scared last night?"

"Cuz we weren't by any cemeteries. And I just figured that maybe they were still around today."

I laughed. "Well, they weren't." And maybe God wasn't, either.

"Keith?"

"Yeah, girly-girl."

"Do we have any dead to honor?"

Huh. Not in this country, we didn't. Maybe some of Mom's family in the Old Country were good people worth being honored, and maybe we (they?) honored them. But we never knew any of our old man's family, so I wouldn't give a hang if any of them – _any of them,_ even the old man himself – were dead. "Mom's folks, maybe. I dunno. I don't know any dead people. Do you?"

Sadie shook her head. "I'm glad I don't know any dead people."

I ruffled her hair. "Yeah, kid. Me too."

XXXXX

"Did you really think you were going to get out of this?"

I whipped around. Tim Shepard and Company. Shoulda known. Alright, Keith – time to turn the charm up to ten. Of course I hadn't expected to get away with this! Kidding, I had. I definitely had. I definitely thought that I would be able to get Tim off by back for at least another month, but I guess that wasn't the case. So when I was cornered at the Slash J by Tim Shepard and his top cronies, I can say that I definitely hadn't seen it coming. Because I'm a dumbass, and the one time I should've listened to Dally, I didn't.

"Fellas, I'm sure we can work somethin' out," I said, trying to laugh, but it came out all nervous. I held out my hands. "C'mon, now –let's be reasonable!"

One of his guys started flexing his fingers, and the guy next to him was rolling his neck. Oh, no. Oh, _no._ Dammit, Keith. The one thing in your life you really needed to be taking seriously, and you fuck it right up. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Won't do me much good now, to get back in your good graces, but I ain't _that_ horrible, am I? Could you at least not let them kill me? To at least give me _time_ to atone for my sins? It would mean a bunch.

"I have been," Tim said, voice low. He was looking dangerous and primed to bop me. "How much of it do ya got?"

I swallowed roughly. Ran a finger around my shirt collar. I'd come here with the guys to have a _good_ time tonight, watch the rodeo, not get my ass handed to me. "Three-hundred."

"I needed five-hundred by _today_. I told you that _a month ago_. Or had I not made myself clear?"

I shook my head. "No! I mean – yeah, Tim, you made yourself real clear."

"Then you shoulda seen this coming."

He landed a hit square in the middle of my face, and then they all started belting me. Prolly shoulda seen that coming.

XXXXX

When the guys saw me, they immediately knew what had happened. Which meant that I had no chance to make up a better story about why both my eyes were purple, my nose was bleeding and crooked, and my knuckles were bloodied and bruised. I don't know if, in my current state, I'd be able to come up with anything that quickly, either, but it was the principle of the thing. Ya know?

"You don't fuck with Tim," Darry told me that night, as he patched me up best he could. "You just don't, man."

"I know," I said sourly. "But I did anyway."

"Cuz you're a dumbass!"

"Here, here!" Sodapop agreed with Steve cheerfully and toasted me. Pony and Johnny watched on with bewilderment as I pulled bloody gauze out of my mouth. Some role model I made, I thought, glum. Always in trouble with somebody.

Mom was a mess when she saw me. I'd come home looking bad before, but never quite so bad that my whole face was practically one big bruise. She wanted to patch me up all over again, even though Darry had already done his best. So I let her scold me in her kind way, having the sense not to ask why or who did this. I told her I fought back, but that it didn't matter by that point whether I'd fought back or not. Three-on-one is _not_ good odds. And I'd been left with a warning that I had to get the rest of the money to Tim _somehow_ , and that he sure as shit wasn't going to loan me any money ever again. I thought again of dropping out, but that still didn't seem like such a good idea, and I remembered why a few days later.

The bruising had gone down a bit. My nose still looked weird, and my eyes were still black, but I covered them up with shades, even though the pressure hurt a bit. Whatever would keep small children from shrinking back from me on the street was good – I ain't Dallas. I don't really get a kick outta scaring little kids like he does.

Anyways.

I was headed to the drugstore one day not too long after the incident. We'd run outta aspirin, and the headaches I was gettin' were unreal. Ma had given me the money, so I decided to be honest about the transaction, boring as that was. Then I had a little left over, so I figured – hey, I've had a rough week. Why not treat myself to a Coke? I deserve that much. So I slide up to the counter, flip the soda jerk my quarter, and who should be sitting two seats down from me than Bee Stevens, a pink milkshake in front of her and a book in her lap.

It's a small world, after all.

"Well, howdy, Miz Stevens."

Bee turned to me and her eyes widened. "Hello, Two-Bit. What're you doing here?"

"Havin' myself a Co-Cola. How 'bout you? A little far east for you, I'd imagine."

She shifted a little in her seat, like the question made her a bit uncomfortable. "Well, uh, I thought this was 'neutral territory.'"

I quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"Well, some of my friends were telling me that this is sort of, well, neutral territory, like I said. Everyone comes here. Weren't they right?"

I shrugged. "I guess so. Strawberry?" I pointed to her shake.

"Oh, uh – yeah. Sometimes I think the only reason I like strawberry shakes so much is because I like the color pink. Strawberry's fine and all, but I really prefer vanilla. So if they could just dye a vanilla shake pink, I guess I'd have it made."

I chuckled. "For you, Miz Stevens, I'm sure they would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh! – nothing, nothing. Nothing at _all_."

"Say – why're you wearing your sunglasses?"

It was my turn to feel awkward. "Cuz it's bright out."

She giggled. "No it's not. It's overcast, has been for days. What, you have a headache?"

I snorted. "Something like that. And, uh, there's the matter of _this_ …."

I took off the sunglasses and winced at both the light and the odd tug the action made on my skin. Bridget's cow-like eyes were as big as saucers as she took in the sorry sight of me. Like I said – it was getting better. But that wasn't saying much. And I wasn't surprised in the least that she was looking at me the way she was. I decided to get smart with her about it anyways.

"What're _you_ lookin' at?"

Bee actually looked a bit sheepish. She cleared her throat and shuffled her feet awkwardly. "Your, uh, your eye…both of them, actually. You look terrible."

I tried to snort, but all that did was hurt my head. I bit back a groan. "Yeah, I guess I do, huh?"

"What happened?"

What happened? _What happened?_ Tim Shepard, that's what happened. And my inability to make good on a promise. That, too. I didn't exactly want to explain all that to her, though, so I fudged the truth. "Got in a fight, that's all. You know how my kind are – always gettin' into scraps."

That wasn't entirely untrue – both statements, that is. And I had made her look decidedly uncomfortable. But, seeing her that way didn't make me nearly as happy as it would have even a month ago. In fact, I wish she weren't awkward around me at all, wish the both of us weren't awkward around each other. Couldn't she see I was falling in love with her? Couldn't she tell that had never happened to me before? Couldn't she just _get a clue?_ Then again, if she weren't so clueless, I don't think I'd like her as much as I do.

"Always?" She asked. "You're sure? I've never seen you quite like this before."

I chuckled. Raised an eyebrow at her. "Well," I drawled, "you haven't known me that long. I've had worse."

"Really? Wow."

"It is a 'wow.'"

"Well, I hope it gets better soon."

My, _my_. Did I hear what I just thought I heard? I couldn't stop smiling for the life of me – here she was, sitting next to me, in a drugstore, lips around a straw stuck in a strawberry milkshake like the little prima donna she was; here I was, sitting next to her, bedeviling a cigarette and combing back my hair like the juvenile delinquent I was, and it was just so _rich_. This was comedy gold, I'll tell you what. We made quite the pair. We were lucky it was a slow day, otherwise we'd be getting a lot more than just a couple wary glances from the geezer manning the register, prolly all due to my presence.

"You do?" I asked, feigning shock – but not really.

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "Why is that so surprising?"

"Well, it's just that we have _history – "_

"We do," she agreed. "So?"

" _So_ , Miz Stevens, it's just that I'm a bit surprised to hear the well-wishes, considering the _kind_ of history."

Bridget sighed. "You could've just said 'thank you.' That would've worked, too."

"Well – thanks," I said lamely, but, ya know, I meant it. She just rolled her eyes. I pointed to her book. "Whatcha readin'?"

"Oh!" She pushed it between us. "It's for English. It's a play called _Our Town_."

"You like it?"

"Yeah, I do! I think. I think it's about to give me an existential crisis, but maybe that's not such a bad thing." She shrugged her shoulders.

" _Existential?_ " I repeated, grabbing the book. I read as she spoke.

"Yeah – um, I mean, _yes_. Existential, like… _existence_. Asking the big questions."

"The big questions," I repeated slowly. "I see. Sounds way above my paygrade."

' _Y'know, Babylon once had two million people in it, and all we know about 'em is the names of the kings and some copies of wheat contracts…and contracts for the sale of slaves. Yet every night all those families sat down to supper, and the father came home from his work, and the smoke went up the chimney, same as here. And even in Greece and Rome, all we know about the real life of the people is what we can piece together out of the joking poems and the comedies they wrote for the theatre back then. So I'm going to have a copy of this play put in the cornerstone and the people a thousand years from now'll know a few simple facts about us – more than the Treaty of Versailles and the Lind-bergh flight. See what I mean? So – people a thousand years from now – this is the way we were in the provinces north of New York at the beginning of the twentieth century. This is the way we were: in our growing up and in our marrying and in our living and in our dying.'_

Yeesh. I put the book down. "I can't remember the last time I read anything for school," I said, because I didn't have much else to say about that.

"It's been that long?"

I smirked. "You sure do ask a lot of questions. Don't you?"

"Guess so. What – too much for you?"

Bridget was smiling, and yep – there it was again – that gap between her teeth was peeking out at me.

"Guess so," I said smartly, and I actually got her to laugh. Miracles _do_ happen. I don't care what they say.

"Enough to give you an existential crisis of your own?"

Now, I've never thought much about existing. I just knew that I did. And I didn't put much thought into how I existed or anything because I never really cared – I was here and that was enough for me. But this girl was starting to make me wonder. Because she was probably the type who wanted a guy who put _some_ thought into how he existed. And as I was sitting there with her, the two of us existing together, I started thinking about it, how I went about my existing – how she went about hers – and figured that I probably needed to change a little if I was ever going to get this gal to realize just how much I really, _really_ liked her.

"That's the thing you're reading in English right now?" I asked.

"Sure is."

I nodded. "I think maybe that's what I'm s'posed to be reading for mine, too. And since you gave it such a _glowin'_ review, I think I'll give it a shot."

Her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes grew a little kinder and her pretty smile a little bigger. "Well. I guess miracles _do_ happen."

XXXXX

 **AN: The quote in italics is from** ** _Our Town_** **, a play by Thornton Wilder. One of my absolute favorites.**

 **Thanks for reading! If you're feeling so inclined, feel free to leave some feedback. I'd adore it if you did.**


	11. A Helluva Night

**Author's Note: Next chapter! Thank you all for your continued support. Keep it up!**

 **We've officially entered canon events. I'm only telling you that because I want you all to know that I am going to try to handle the events as faithfully as possible, while also showing you another side of things. There's direct quotes, as well. Also, I don't own any of this.** ** _At all._** **There's that, too.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Bridget, I found out, has these friends named Marcia and Cherry. Cherry's that redhead I sometimes talk about. I met them. I met them on a pretty bad night. I mean, I didn't know then – on that night, I mean – that it was gonna be that way. I didn't know _then_ what was going to happen, that it would basically kick-start everything that's happening right now.

Lemme tell you about it.

XXXXX

"Glory halleleujah," I breathed, staring after the little sports car speeding out of our neighborhood. "Who in their right mind woulda done a thing like that?"

Dallas's chest was heaving, face starting to relax after the fight. Poor Pony. How much more of this shit are we s'posed to be expected to take?

"Goddamn socs," he spat. Soda had run off to check on Ponyboy, and I looked over my shoulder and saw the three brothers sitting on the ground together. Yeah – poor kid. He looked pretty freaked. Me? I've had my share of fights. You know that. So have the rest of us, even Johnny. But Pony…Ponyboy's been in rumbles, but he's never been targeted like this.

We could officially call things bad. Red alert, folks. Danger, danger, Will Robinson.

The lot of us – me, Steve, Dally, and Johnny – made our way over to the brothers. I'd already lit up a cigarette, and the rest of the guys were starting to follow suit. Calms the nerves. Looks like that was what Soda was trying to do for Ponyboy, who had started to cry a bit. But we couldn't blame him – kid's a kid. When he saw us, though, he made a show of wiping his tears away, thinking we hadn't seen 'em.

"Didya catch 'em?" He asked.

"Nup. They got away this time, the dirty bastards." I shrugged like it was no big deal, but it woulda been nice to give them what-for.

"The kid's okay?" Dally asked.

"I'm okay. I didn't know you were out of the cooler yet, Dally."

Yeah, got out just a little too late. If I'd had him around when Tim had come for me, things might'a been different. Maybe. I dunno. Dallas nodded.

"Good behavior. Got off early." He and Johnny both lit up, and the air was now thick with smoke. It was cold out, so our breath was coming out in puffs, too. Pony was starting to look like he was calming down, so I figured I could try talking to him a bit. I cocked an eyebrow and studied him real good – the damage, that is. "Nice-lookin' bruise you got there, kid."

He touched his cheek. By the way his eyes lit up, you'd've thought that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. "Really?" He asked, sounding awed. I swallowed a laugh and nodded.

"Nice cut, too. Makes you look tough."

Pony fingered the bruise on his cheek and stared at me like he wanted to say something. I don't know why, but Ponyboy's got this real hang-up about wanting to be tuff. Or tough, I don't know. Kid was smart, he was fast, but all he wanted to hear was that the rest of us thought he was a tough kid – or guy. I don't know. And he _can_ handle himself, but…

"What were you doin', walkin' by your lonesome?" Steve asked. Harsh, but if you knew him like we did, you knew he cared. Guess Pony didn't know him real well, cuz he frowned, scowling when he answered.

"I was comin' home from the movies. I didn't think..."

"You don't ever think! Not at home or anywhere when it counts. You must think at school, with all those good grades you bring home, and you've always got your nose in a book, but do you ever use your head for common sense? No sirree, bub. And if you did have to go by yourself, you should have carried a blade."

There was a bit of an awkward silence. Leave it to Darry to make this a domestic dispute. Soda glared at his big brother. "Leave my kid brother alone, you hear? It ain't his fault he likes to go to the movies, and it ain't his fault the Socs like to jump us, and if he had been carrying a blade it would have been a good excuse to cut him to ribbons."

This is when it's real obvious what Mr. and Mrs. Curtis' dying did to Darry. He never woulda been like this just a year ago. And I know it's real easy to wish things were the way they used to be, but we all know that the thing that hasn't changed in all this time is that Darry cares about his brothers more than anybody ever could.

But seeing Darry like this is hard. Makes me miss my old buddy in a way that's hard to fix.

"When I want my kid brother to tell me what to do with my other kid brother, I'll ask you- _kid brother_."

Darrel Curtis is the master of making every moment seriously awkward. That's why he keeps me around – to reverse that. "Next time get one of us to go with you, Ponyboy. Any of us will." I got a nod out of him, and that was good enough.

"Speakin' of movies" – Dally flicked away his cigarette – "I'm walkin' over to the Nightly Double tomorrow night. Anybody want to come and hunt some action?"

"Me and Soda are pickin' up Evie and Sandy for the game."

Steve shot Pony a real nasty look, and I scowled back at him. Steve just rolled his eyes, like that was explanation enough. I get it – he thinks the kid's a tagalong. We _all_ get it.

"I'm working tomorrow night," Darry said carefully, like he would've gone if circumstances were different.

"How about y'all? Two-Bit? Johnnycake, you and Pony wanna come?"

"Me and Johnny'll come," Pony said, real eager. "Okay, Darry?"

"Yeah, since it ain't a school night."

"I was plannin' on getting boozed up tomorrow night. If I don't, I'll walk over and find y'all." I shrugged like I was indifferent about it, but I was ended up there anyways.

And lemme tell you, I wish now that I hadn't.

XXXXX

I was drunk as shit.

Okay, I exaggerate. I wasn't that drunk. But I was _kinda_ drunk.

As I made my way over to the Nightly Double, I ran into Tim. He was slouching around the gate, smoking a cigarette, when he called me over. "You seen Dally around?"

"Nup," I said cheerfully. "Not today." It took everything I had not to absolutely beat his ass right then and there for what he'd done to me. Yeah, I was healing up pretty well, but it's the principle of the thing. And breathing still kinda hurt, so. "Why, what'd he do?"

Tim took a drag of his cigarette. "Curly says he spotted him slashing my tires. If you see him – send him my way."

Yeah, sure, Tim. Maybe _you're_ one to sell out your so-called buddies, but not me. "Sure thing," I lied. "See you around, Timmy."

"See ya. And Two-Bit – "

"I know, I know. Month to get ya two-hundred big ones. Heard ya loud and clear last time."

I stalked away from him and tried to find the boys, who – surprise, surprise! – _were sitting with a couple of girls!_

Those sly _dogs_.

I played a little joke on 'em when I walked up – acted like some big, scary soc – but I don't think it went over too well. Ponyboy sure looked like he was done with me. Not only had I spooked him and Johnny real bad, but I was chatting up this broad – Mary? Marcia? Yeah, I think that's it – right in from of 'em. Pony's a nice kid, so's Johnny, but c'mon. Gotta get it while ya can, fellas.

"Hey, Two-Bit," Johnny said, shaky. I smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"Sorry, kid. Forgot."

I climbed over the chair and sat next to Marcia. "Who's this, your great-aunts?"

"Great-grandmothers, twice removed," the other one, the redhead I've mentioned before, Cherry, said.

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "Shoot, you're ninety-six if you're a day."

"I'm a night," Marcia said.

I looked at her. She was kinda cute. And hell, both of 'em were putting up with my stupid wisecracks, which gave them a leg up on Miss Bee Stevens, if you ask me. Or maybe not. Maybe it's a good thing she doesn't put up with my shit.

No. No, that's stupid. She doesn't put up with my shit cuz she doesn't like me. Which sucks and all, but that's the truth, no matter how hard I try. And I've been trying. I've been reading that play, and let me tell you, I've never read something for a _girl_ before. And I'll tell you another thing about that play – I'm pretty sure it's given me a complex. And so is Bee Stevens.

"Brother, you're a sharp one. Where'd you two ever get to be picked up by a couple of greasy hoods like Pony and Johnny?"

"We really picked them up. We're really Arabian slave traders and we're thinking about shanghaiing them. They're worth ten camels apiece at least."

I shook my head. "Five. They don't talk Arabian, I don't think." I nudged Johnny's shoulder. "Say somethin' in Arabian, Johnnycake."

"Aw, cut it out! Dally was bothering them and when he left they wanted us to sit with them to protect them. Against wisecracking greasers like you, probably."

I grinned. Sounded like Dallas. "Hey, where is ol' Dally, anyways?"

"He went hunting some action – booze or dames or a fight. I hope he don't get jailed again. He just got out."

Yeah, well, no promises, kiddo. Especially knowing what Tim had told me on the way in here. "He'll probably find the fight. That's why I came over. Mr. Timothy Shepard and Co. are looking for whoever so kindly slashed their car's tires, and since Mr. Curly Shepard spotted Dallas doing it...well...Does Dally have a blade?"

Pony thought about it. "Not that I know of. I think he's got a piece of pipe, but he busted his blade this morning."

"Good. Tim'll fight fair if Dally don't pull a blade on him. Dally shouldn't have any trouble."

The girls were staring at us like we had soundly turned into criminals before their very eyes. Cherry's brows had shot straight up, and Marcia's mouth was hung open. "You don't believe in playing rough or anything, do you?"

I waved off their worries. "A fair fight isn't rough," I said. "Blades are rough. So are chains and heaters and pool sticks and rumbles. Skin fighting isn't rough. It blows off steam better than anything. There's nothing wrong with throwing a few punches. Socs are rough. They gang up on one or two, or they rumble each other with their social clubs. Us greasers usually stick together, but when we do fight among ourselves, it's a fair fight between two. And Dally deserves whatever he gets, 'cause slashed tires ain't no joke when you've got to work to pay for them. He got spotted, too, and that was his fault. Our one rule, besides _Stick together_ , is _Don't get caught_. He might get beat up, he might not. Either way, there's not going to be any blood feud between our outfit and Shepard's. If we needed them tomorrow, they'd show. If Tim beats Dally's head in, and then tomorrow asks us for help in a rumble, _we'll show_. Dally was getting kicks. He got caught. He pays up. No sweat."

Thing is, _paying up_ when it comes to the Shepards ain't always fair. I was just sayin' that. Yeah, they'd come through for us if we needed them, but the fact is…well, things ain't always fair! That's all. Nothin's fair. It ain't fair that Tim's a hypocrite, it ain't fair that these girls will always have more than they need, and it ain't fair that the girl I'm falling for hates me. But that's just how it is.

When Cherry and Pony went off to get some popcorn, I took that as an opportunity to get my mind off things and chat up Marcia a bit. Sorry, Johnny.

"So, you're from the west side, huh?" I asked, cozying up next to her. Johnny must'a been mighty uncomfortable. Maybe someday I should let him get a little action. "That's real nice, brother. You like it there?"

She tittered, and if she weren't so cute, it would've been annoying. "Yes, I like it very much."

"Oh, that's real nice. See, I don't come from a real good part of town, so I'm _fascinated_ with what it's like on the west side. Thinkin' of doin' a whole case study on y'all, whuddyah think of that?"

"I think that's a lovely idea. Get yourself a Nobel Prize or something."

"Or something. Say, I think I've seen you around school before. You're a junior, ain't ya?"

"Mmhmm. I think I've seen you around, too. One'a my friends has a class with you. Yeah! You know Bridget Stevens?"

"Course," I said. "She and I have US history together. She keeps her paper covered real well, so she's hard to cheat off."

Marcia giggled. "Yeah, I'll bet. She ain't exactly your number one fan, is she?"

"She sure ain't."

"Well, I like you, so I'll be sure to put in a good word for you to her."

And as I found out later, I think she really did.

After the movie, we offered to walk the girls back to my place so I could give them a lift, and I'd asked for Marcia's number, so she and I had gotten to like each other over the course of the night. It's just that _somebody_ had to go and spoil our good time.

"Well," I heard Cherry say from behind me, "they've spotted us."

The blue Mustang had missed us the first time around. But it seems that maybe they'd come back around on a hunch, and they were right – we were walkin' 'round the east side with their girls. And that's that. A couple of socs got out of the car, swaying a bit on their feet. Marcia had stepped away from me a bit and towards her friend.

"Cherry, Marcia, listen to us," One of them said, a guy with dark hair. "Just because we got a little drunk last time..."

I tuned them out a bit. Let them hash it out. The other guy – who I guess was Marcia's boyfriend – was talking pretty much only to her. "Baby, you know we don't get drunk very often." Marcia didn't say anything. Her boyfriend glared at me. For some reason, at that moment, I thought of Jerry Thompson, and a part of me knew that he wouldn't do something like this. And that made me feel kinda rotten. Because he was a good guy. And that meant Bee was in good hands. Which just added to the list of _Reasons Why Bee Stevens Would Never Want Me_. "And even if you _are_ mad at us, that's no reason to go walking the streets with these bums."

I took a drag on my cigarette and put my elbow on Johnny's shoulder. "Who you callin' bums?"

"Listen, greasers, we got four more of us in the back seat..."

"Then pity the back seat!"

"If you're looking for a fight..."

I cocked an eyebrow. Trust me to not be able to keep my mouth shut. "You mean if I'm looking for a good jumping, you outnumber us, so you'll give it to us? Well..." I picked up a bottle, busted it, handed it off to Pony, and then flipped out my blade. " _Try it, pal_."

"No! Stop it!" Cherry yelled, then turned to her boyfriend. "We'll ride home with you. Just wait a minute."

"Why?" I asked, hot and bothered. "We ain't scared of them."

Cherry shook her head. "I can't stand fights... I can't _stand_ them..."

They drove off, the four of them, and the three of us kept walking back to the lot, even though I had no intention of staying there. "Well, those were two good-lookin' girls if I ever saw any." I yawned and took Marcia's number out of my pocket and tore it up. I knew I didn't stand a chance with her. The only person I ever stood a chance with was Kathy, and that wasn't exactly a good feeling.

"What was that?"

"Marcia's number. Probably a phony one, too. I must have been outa my mind to ask for it. I think I'm a little soused. Y'all goin' home?"

"Not right now," Pony said.

"I don't know why I handed you that busted bottle," I said, standing up. "You'd never use it."

"Maybe I would have. Where you headed?"

"Gonna go play a little snooker and hunt up a poker game. Maybe get rip-roarin' drunk. I dunno. See y'all tomorrow."

Looking back on all this, remembering that, it leaves a pit in my stomach knowing now that I wouldn't.

XXXXX

"Darry, what're you telling me?"

Darry looked like he was about to pull his hair out. "They're _missing_. They didn't come back last night! Shit, Two-Bit – look, I told you. We got in a fight, I shoved him, and then he _bolted._ God, Soda's so mad at me. I don't know what I'm gonna do. And now this whole mess with this dead soc? Jesus Christ, Two-Bit, I've fucked up. I've fucked just like I knew I was always gonna fuck up."

"Wait – what _dead soc?_ What's that got to do with anything?"

Darry shook his head. "Apparently, a group of socs ganged up on Pony and Johnny at the park cuz they'd walked their girls home or something, and they went to _teach them a lesson_ or some shit, and they tried to fucking _drown_ Ponyboy…so…Johnny did what he had to do."

" _Johnny?"_

"That's what the cops say. It's all gotten pieced together. Johnny fucking _killed_ a guy, Two-Bit."

"Holy shit."

Darry nodded. "Holy shit."

I swallowed roughly. Now I felt guilty – I never shoulda left the two of them alone. I shoulda just taken Ponyboy home. That would've been the right thing to do. And I shouldn't have offered to give the girls a lift. We shoulda just left 'em at the drive-in, no matter how shitty a thing that was to do. Right? Oh, _god_. And then there's Bridget, who's gonna hear all about this, and she's gonna want to avoid me even more. Everyone will! Crap, this is bad. This is really bad.

"Wanna do another loop around town?" I asked.

"No," Darry mumbled. "No. Not right now. I'm exhausted, Soda's exhausted. We looked all night. Steve came over early this morning, helped us look, too. Went with Soda while you and me went out. They're not here, Two-Bit. I think they've left town."

I closed my eyes. _Crap_. I took a deep breath, tried to think of good things, like the hundred-fifty I got last night playing poker, but that wasn't cutting it right now. Where was Dallas? What did he know? What else did those socs know? What else did Cherry and Marcia and their friends know?

Wait.

 _Wait_.

"I have an idea."

Darry looked up at me. "What?" He asked glumly.

"I think," I said conspiratorially, "I might have myself an _inside man._ "

Darry raised his eyebrows. "An 'inside man'?" He repeated. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I _mean_ that I think I might know somebody who knows somthin'."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Anything, Two-Bit. I don't care what it takes, I want to get them back. I want" – his voice cracked – "I want to tell Pony I'm sorry. Two-Bit," he breathed, "I fucked up _so bad_."

"Darry," I sighed, "I know you, man. And I know your kid brother. That kid…you shoulda heard him last night. He don't think you love him. But I know that ain't true!" I added quickly when I saw his face fall. "I know you do. I don't know what goes through that kid's head sometimes, buddy, but I know you fucked up cuz you care about him."

"That don't make any sense."

"Sure it does. You were mad at him for bein' late, yeah?"

"Well… _yeah,_ but…"

"And cuz he don't use his head?" Darry nodded. "Man, you just boiled over. You try so damn hard to keep that kid on the straight and narrow that you blew up. At least you're tryin', Darry. And that's more than most people can say. Got it?"

Darry nodded, but I don't think he was real sure about himself just then. So I just stuck to the plan: we spent the next couple days driving around Tulsa, talking to the cops. A couple guys from the newspaper came over and gave Darry and Soda a lot of grief. I don't know how much longer Soda was gonna last without Pony here. Hell, I don't know how any of us were gonna last. And Dallas had all but disappeared, which wasn't a good sign. So, I turned to the only person I could think to turn to. When I showed back up to school on Wednesday, feeling uneasy and on-edge because everyone was looking at me and Steve like we were spooks or somethin', I consulted my inside man. School felt weird, with that guy having been killed and all. Felt like everyone was walking on eggshells, and nothing felt normal, not with Cherry Valance walking around with her posse clinging to her like she was a widow or something.

And that's where my inside man had been the past few days. So, knowing that she might know a bit more about all this than I did, I dropped her a note, just like always.

 _You're friends with the dead guy's girl, aren't you?-Two-Bit_

 _I am. Why?-Bridget_

 _Because I need info. My gang needs info. Now, what do you know?-Two-Bit_

 _All I know is that Bob and his friends jumped yours, and one of them stabbed him and they ran off. That's all I know.-Bridget_

 _Okay then. I can believe that. Look, I'm sorry. Everything's gonna get kinda crazy, I think. And maybe we'll be at the center of it. Or near it.-Two-Bit_

 _I'm sorry about your friends. You don't have to say sorry to me. I didn't lose a friend.-Bridget_

 _Huh. So maybe you're not hurting. I think maybe you're the only one that's not.-Two-Bit_

The bell rang before Bridget could write back to me. I was upset that she couldn't tell me more. But in the coming days, as Dallas made his triumphant return the next day, as Soda unraveled, as Darry berated himself and things got heated, I realized that she was the only sane person in this goddamn town. I realized that no matter how close to all this she got, no matter how pissed she got at me, no matter what shitty things she said to Evie, none of this made sense to her. She was lost. Bee Stevens was a fish out of water when she was the center of attention. She's as confused as the rest of us are. I should feel bad. I should leave her out of this. I should feel bad for walking those girls home. I should be thinking that I started all this. For being the dumbass I am.

But I don't feel bad. Because now? I finally have an excuse to be with her.

XXXXX

 **AN: Alright – here we go. This is the chapter heaviest with content from the original book, but the good news is that we're gonna get a lot more gooey/sappy/romantic gunk coming up! Sorta.**

 **Also – I'll be outta town the next couple weeks, so I'm gonna try my best to update on time, but no promises. But by August, everything will be back to our normal, weekly update schedule. :)**

 **Did you enjoy? If so, feel free to fave, follow, or –my favorite – review! Let me know what you're thinkin'.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	12. The Night the Brakes Went Out

**Author's Note: Hey, all! Welcome to part one of chapter twelve!**

 **Thank you for the continued support! It means a bunch.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Where the hell have you been?"

Darry watched Dallas with a critical eye as Dally just shrugged as he came into the Curtis's living room and sat on the couch. He lit up a cigarette. He put his feet up on the coffee table. If you didn't know him like we did, you wouldn't know that this whole act was exactly that – an act. Most people are too scared of him to figure out what exactly he's really like. And yeah, he's a big ol' meanie. But he's human. And he's got tells.

"Got hauled in," he said easily. "You know how it is – cops drag me in for everything."

"So you know something?" Soda asked, eyes narrowed. It felt weird, it just being the five of us. Pony and Johnny don't say much, but it still felt a bit surreal without them there.

"Told 'em that they were heading for Texas," Dallas said coolly. Soda whacked Darry's shoulder.

"I told you he knew somethin'," Soda insisted. "Kids are smart – course they'd go to him!"

"Well, if we know where they are – if _you_ know where they are – then what are we waiting for?" I asked. "Let's go!"

"Two-Bit, man – "

"I'm serious! Dallas, you say you know where they are. Right? So take us to 'em!"

I don't know why I was getting so worked up. That's a lie. Of course I know. Of all the people on the east side, those kids were the last people who should be getting in trouble for killing a guy. There's some holes in this story. Sure, Ponyboy and Johnny could look and act sorta tough and came from a rough side of town and hardly had any money, but they couldn't hurt nobody. They _couldn't,_ could they? It sure _sounded_ like Johnny had a good reason to knife that soc. I knew who that guy was – the one he stabbed. We went to school with him. Soda had found a picture of him in one of his yearbooks. I knew Bee Stevens prolly knew him. And like I said – she's my inside man. Anything I can get out of her, I'll take.

"That's what I _told_ 'em," Dallas continued. "That don't mean it's true." He looked between the four of us, trying to keep his cool. "And it don't mean I know anything. I just made that story up. Darry, Soda, I'm sorry. But I don't know where they are."

That's the one time I've ever heard Dallas say sorry and actually seem to mean it.

Guy's not a half-bad actor.

XXXXX

 _Alright, Keith. Stay calm. She's just a chick._

I looked in my rearview mirror and combed my hair. This was my excuse to be with Bee Stevens – a guise of wanting to get inside info on what happened that night. Which, I'd love to get. But I also just…you know what? I don't have to explain myself. I do stupid, _stupid_ things when I'm into a girl. And just being _into_ her was stupid of me, considering where the two of us were from.

She had just left the school when I spotted her, and with Steve's new car and Pony and Johnny missing, well…I was sorta alone, which was good. I didn't _mean_ for this to happen, but it was a perfect coincidence that I noticed her when I did, that we were both alone, and circumstances being what they are…

"May I interest you in a ride, Miz Bee?"

I had pulled up next to her, head out the window so I could talk to her. She turned around, surprised, but quickly settled down and snorted. "No _thanks_ , Two-Bit. I can walk," she insisted.

"C _'mon_. I don't bite, Stevens. Not anymore, I don't. Well, not ladies. C'mon."

She stopped walking, I stopped moving the truck, and we just stared at each other. She looked somewhere between pissed and confused.

"Why?" she asked. Fair question. Complicated answer, one that mostly had to do with me trying to get up the nerve to ask her on a date, but also the looming matter of, ya know, trying to figure out what the hell exactly happened to my buddies.

" _Why?"_ I repeated. "Cuz we have a mystery that needs solvin', and I was _thinkin'_ maybe the two of us could solve it together! That's why."

She looked at me like I was crazy. "What did you just say?"

I laughed. "C'mon, Bee. It won't be so bad - you an' me comparing notes about this whole thing... Maybe we could get down to the bottom of this!"

I could see the gears turning in her head. She didn't want to, but something made Bee Stevens climb into my truck.

"Alright," she began as I started driving again. "So…do you know _anything_ about where your friends might've run off to?"

I thought about what Dallas had told us. Texas. That they'd run off to Texas. But that he'd lied. He didn't know where they were. They _could've_ been in Texas, but I doubted it. "Winston says – get this – that they've run to _Texas_." I rolled my eyes. "I actually believed him at first; the bastard can be pretty convincing when he wants to be. Prolly how he got Sylvia. Anyways, I'm not exactly sure that that's where they are."

Bee raised her eyebrows. "Well, if Dallas is trying to convince you of where they've _gone_ , don't you think he maybe knows where they really _are?_ And maybe he told them where to go?"

"I figgered that already. But knowing him, he won't ever budge. Not 'til they come home."

"Do you think they'll come home?" She asked, her voice small. I think she maybe even _cared_ , for some reason. I can't always read her.

"I think so. Sometime." I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. "Do you even know what happened that night?"

She shook her head 'no.' "No one will tell me. Do you?"

"I don't know nothin' that'll help the two of us. At least, nothin' that nobody needs to know." I wasn't about to tell her about Pony getting home late, Darry getting upset and smacking him, about how the socs wouldn't've found them if none of that had ever happened. I lit a cigarette, offered her one, but she refused. "Gotta give 'em credit – they wanna hide, so they did. And they're doing a pretty damn good job."

We got silent for a minute. I don't know what else there was to say. She could probably see right through me, that all of this had been an excuse – not like we'd really done anything productive. Not like we'd figured anything new out, except that we pretty much agree that Dallas must be lying.

"I couldn't do anything like that," she laughed, breaking the silence. "I couldn't ever just run away like that. For good or bad."

I looked at her. Yeah, she was pretty and pulled together and Tulsa's newest up-and-coming socialite, but watching her wring her hands as she sat in my truck, I knew she was lying. Or, maybe she wasn't lying about not being able to ever run away. But she was lying about something else. "You're yankin' my chain," I drawled. "Somethin tells me you wanna rail against... _whoever_ , just as bad as anyone else. You just don't keep the company that'll encourage ya to do it."

She laughed again. "What's _that_ supposed to mean, Two-Bit Mathews?"

"It _means_ that you oughta hang around me a li'l' more, and maybe some of my rebellious attitude'll rub off on ya," I winked, making a shameless plug.

"In your dreams, Two-Bit. I don't wanna rebel against anybody anyway."

I pulled up in front of her house. Everyone knew which one was hers. It was a big plantation style, and had been vacant for a few years before she had moved in. I rested my arms on the steering wheel and stared at her. She stared back, but she was starting to fidget, like she couldn't keep it up. I smiled slowly. "Oh, there's a rebel in there." She kept on squirming. "Underneath all those nice dresses. And I'd sure as hell would love to meet her."

I could feel her staring at me as I waited for her to get out. She wanted me to say something else. She wanted me to explain what I meant. I could practically read her mind. She wanted to know if I was flirting with her, and _knowing_ that she's the kind of girl who never used to get flirted with, it was probably confusing for her – even as a girl with a boyfriend. But I wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. She was gonna have to figure me out for herself.

XXXXX

"Are you sure about this?" Darry asked, looking pretty uncomfortable. He looked out of place in this seedy bar, even if he could take anyone in the joint.

"You heard what Cherry said the other day," I reminded him. "They want to settle this once and for all."

"And you believe her?" Steve asked, looking at me like I was crazy, which is fair.

"It was pretty brave of her to come over to our side of town. She wouldn't've done somethin' that crazy if she wasn't serious," Soda mused. "Glad this one" – he pointed to Dally – "didn't jump her."

"She asked for it the other night. Girl's a bitch."

Darry rolled his eyes. "Look – this girl? Our 'spy'? I don't give a shit about her. She sold out Ponyboy – "

"We don't _know_ that, Darry – "

"But Soda's right. This needs to be settled. _Now._ "

Darry threw open the doors to our meeting room, where Tim was sitting on one side of the table and the leader of some social group on the other side. A lot of the soc's and Tim's cronies were scattered around the room on either side. Steve closed the door, and joined one of Tim's guys. Soda and Dallas stood in a corner, looking dangerous. Darry sat next to Tim, and I…I just sorta stood a few feet behind him.

"Washburn, Daniels…this is Darry Curtis."

"We know," George Washburn – that huge basketball-playing lunk – said, eyeing Darry. I couldn't see his face, but I bet Darry wasn't looking too pleased with George's tone. We all knew Darry didn't belong here.

"Darrel is one of my associates," Tim said, sounding for all the world like some stuck-up politician. "If he don't agree to somethin', we won't do it."

"You're the one who jumped Mathews the other day, ain't you?" Darry asked Stuart Daniels, who was sitting next to George. "Winston and I were there."

I'd gotten jumped the other day. I was holding Daniels off, but Darry and Dallas found me just in time, and we were able to run him off. Lee smiled, like he was proud of himself.

"Sure was," Stuart drawled.

"Hey, Stuart?" Darry asked, and Lee looked surprised that he knew his name. Darry leaned in. " _Fuck you_."

Lee made a move to stand up, but George pulled him back down. Tim watched with amusement. He lived for this shit. "That's enough, boys. Alright. So, we all agree – rumble is the only way to settle this."

"That's right," George said, nodding. "What are the conditions?"

Darry and Tim glanced at each other. "We play by _our_ rules."

"And what exactly does that mean?" Stuart asked.

"Means you don't pull any funny business, like say…oh, packing some heat," I drawled, and there was a murmur of agreement on our side. Dallas shifted on his feet and looked down at the ground.

"Brumly sometimes plays a bit dirty," Tim admitted, "but I'll make sure they only bring their fists."

George's eyes were dark. "Don't see how skin-on-skin is exactly fair, considering it was your boy that _stabbed_ Bob."

"That was different," Dallas spit. "And you know it."

"Do I?" George asked, playing devil's advocate. "I don't know, fellas."

I felt like I was in a mobster movie. There was only one yellow light in the room, and it swung above the table where the leaders of this war council were sitting, the light shifting between either side. It was funny, being in this room. I couldn't tell if this was a turning point or not. We all wanted things to get better – I think. I like the occasional fight. But this was getting ridiculous; so ridiculous that we were holding a _war council_.

"Run our terms by the other guys on your side," Tim suggested. "And let us know what you decide. We don't do this until we agree on the rules, you savvy?" George and Stuart nodded. Tim leaned forward and looked between the two of them. "Alright, then. Rocky – show these clowns out, will ya?"

Before Rocky could show them to the door, Darry suddenly stood up, knocking his chair over into me and startling everyone in the room. "Wait."

Rocky and the socs turned back to him. "What?" George asked. Darry's chest heaved.

"Were you there? That night?"

"No," Stuart said. "We weren't."

"Who was?"

George and Stuart exchanged a look, like they were questioning whether they should tell them. I knew why Darry was asking. He was mad. He was _really_ mad. And he was looking to hand out some punishments. "Besides Bob…it was Randy Adderson, Dave McMillian, Jack Peters, and Anthony Winters."

"You're sure?"

George nodded. "We're sure."

"Why'd you ask them that?" I asked once the five of us had left. We were walking back to Darry's truck in Buck's parking lot. Darry sighed.

"I'll tell you later," he mumbled.

"Man, they better not OK weapons," Steve grumbled. "If they do, it's gonna get real ugly real fast."

"Sure is. Last thing we need is somebody else to die cuz of all this." Soda ran a hand down his face. He looked real tired.

"Hey." Dallas pointed in front of us. "Red Stingray."

Sure enough, there was Cherry Valance's convertible red Stingray in the parking lot of Buck Merrill's. I raised an eyebrow. "She know we were gonna be here?"

"Guess so," Darry said. We all approached the car carefully. "Cherry?"

She had her sunglasses on, even though it was dark. And with her bright hair, I don't think they were doing much to hide her identity. "How'd it go?" She asked.

"Went okay," Soda said. Steve and Dallas were hanging back, like they'd pounce on her if they didn't. "Why?"

She shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure. What'd you guys decide?"

"We know there's gonna be a rumble, but that's about it," I said. "Your guys are sort of under the impression that weapons should be allowed."

Cherry shook her head. "Oh, man. This is all my fault, Two-Bit."

I keep forgetting I'm the only one she even sorta knows. "No it ain't, Cherry."

"He's right," Darry sighed. "This ain't your fault." I couldn't really tell if he meant that or not. "There's a lot more to this than you'll ever know."

The way she reared back a bit, I could tell she didn't like hearing that. "And why shouldn't I?"

"Because some things are personal," Darry said, firm. "Not everything is your business. You got what you needed – get outta here."

Cherry frowned. "I'm just trying to help you."

"You can help us by convincing your guys to play by our rules," I told her, Soda nodding his agreement. "Now, Darry's right – get out of here."

She sped off. Once the five of us got into Darry's truck, Darry in the driver's seat, he said, "When we get back to the house, somebody find me a phonebook."

"…why, Darry?" Soda asked, sounding wary. Darry answered without missing a beat.

"Because we're gonna pay a visit to a few of our town's _social elites_."

XXXXX

"Hey, Kath."

"Hey, Two-Bit."

She got in the truck and I kissed her cheek, trying to be as friendly as I could. Not like I exactly had good intentions for the rest of the evening, but I figured I could let her down easy. But not just yet.

"We doublin' up tonight, or…?"

"Nah." I started up my truck and pulled away from her house, headed for the Strip to see what there was to do this evening. "Dallas and Sylvia are on the outs, Steve's workin', and somethin's goin' on with Sodapop and Sandy, so –"

"Oh. Yeah, Sandy. She's pregnant."

If I'd had something in my mouth, I'd have been doing a spit take. " _Excuse me?_ She's _what?"_

Kathy shrugged. "She's pregnant. Told me and Evie the other day. She's being sent down to Florida to live with her grandparents."

"So…she and Soda – "

"It ain't Soda's," Kathy said sharply, cutting me off. "She told me and Evie the other day." She laughed without humor. "Soda's a real classy guy – ain't no way he wouldn't wrap it up. No two ways about it – Sandy cheated on him."

I could feel my blood starting to boil. My face was getting hot, and as I drove, I thought that I should probably pull over and let myself cool off, but I just wanted to keep it together for two damn minutes. That's all I wanted – just a _little bit_ of fucking control. Because everything's spinning out right now, and that don't feel good. "You're kidding me," I said through clenched teeth. "She wouldn't do that."

"But she _did,_ " Kathy said, gleeful at the prospect of fresh gossip. "That's that."

No. No! That wasn't _that_. Sandy was gonna have a baby, and Soda was gonna have to live with the fact that he'd fallen for a girl that didn't love him. We'd all seen it, except maybe Ponyboy and Johnny, who didn't come and hang out with the rest of us. She _liked_ Soda. Soda _loved_ her. And I don't need to know details as to why that was. All I need to know is that she stepped out on him. Like I've said before – I ain't always faithful. But I don't step out on Kathy when we're good, only when we're bad. Only when we ain't together. I _look_ when we're together. But I don't step out. And as far as I know, she don't either.

"Kathy, that's _horrible_."

"I know it is," she said, actually sounding a bit sorry. "Sandy was pretty OK to hang around with."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's…that's it? That's all you've got to say?"

Kathy looked at me funny. I had parked us in front of Jay's, but I hadn't made a move to get out. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"Soda's my buddy," I reminded her. "And you've known him a lot longer than you've known _Sandy_. Don't you care 'bout him? Guy's brother goes missin', and now his girl's cheated on him? Jesus, Kathy! Don't you fucking _care_ about anyone other than _yourself?_ "

She sneered at me. Had she _really_ always been like this? She was nicer when I met her. She would've cared then about Soda and how he was feeling. I wanted to know what had happened to her, but I had the funny feeling it had something to do with me, and then I didn't want to know at all. "That's real funny, Two-Bit. Like you're one to talk about caring about other people. If you cared so much, you woulda gotten a job, helped your mom, pay off the rest of your debt to Shepard. But _no_. You're too worried about getting your kicks in. Ain't ya?"

"Oh, I get my kicks in," I assured her. "And don't go bringin' my mother into this, ya hear? She's never been anything but good to you."

"You too. What're you doing for her, Two-Bit? She's drowning!"

That wasn't exactly true. She wasn't drowning – yet. And I was doing exactly what she wanted me to do; I was staying in school because if I didn't, my mother would die of a heart attack. And I wasn't about to kill my mother. "You don't know that."

"You're right. _Everybody_ knows that."

"Jesus, Kathy…"

"Two-Bit."

"What."

"You're an asshole, you know that? You're an A-one, bona fide, _asshole_."

I shrugged – _what're you gonna do? –_ "It's been said."

"Oh – Two-Bit!" She ground out. Kathy huffed and turned away from me, staring out the front windshield. "Take me home."

"Take you home?"

"Yes. Now!"

"Fine by me."

To this day, I still don't know exactly what happened. Same way I don't know why it was that Kathy and I suddenly stopped working at the same time Bridget Stevens rolled into town. I think, sometimes, the universe is trying to tell you something. Maybe? See, I never used to believe in anything like that. But I read that stupid play – _Our Town –_ and all that talk about realizing life while you live it and all that shit has really got me mixed up. And not just that, but the fact that Pony and Johnny are missing. Why did that happen? Why the hell was any of this happening? Why was I thinking about all this instead of focusing on driving? I don't know exactly _what_ happened, but I think my breaks going out was some sort of weird sign. As we spun out into that empty intersection and came to a halt just short of wrapping ourselves around a pole, listening to Kathy scream her head off, I think – maybe, just…maybe – the universe was telling me to get rid of her. So, like the dumbass I am, instead of asking her if she was okay when I finally looked at her and said something, I said, "I think we're done, Kathy."

She stared at me, breathing hard. She didn't look sad, she didn't look scared, she didn't look angry. She almost looked as if she'd been expecting it.

I dropped her off at her place, the whole ordeal only taking about half an hour. It'd funny, what can happen in such a short amount of time. I drove over to check on Soda and Darry, and found all but Dallas and our fugitives inside.

"Welcome to the party," Steve greeted as I walked in. "Thought you were going out with Kathy tonight."

"Thought you were workin' tonight," I said smartly.

"I was. Then Soda called."

"He knows where they are," Soda said, absolutely sure. He was laying on the couch, and Darry was in his chair, head in his hands. "Dallas does. He lied."

"Sounds like Dallas," I said. "So, where are they?"

Soda sighed shakily. "I don't know. He wouldn't tell me. I went over to Buck's today, while I was out lookin', and Dally was there, up in his room, and I found Pony's sweatshirt, the one he was wearing the night that…that he and Johnny went missing. I asked and asked, but he wouldn't tell me. And when I called Buck to tell him to get over here, turns out he's gone. Again."

"Well, shit."

"Exactly," Darry sighed. I decided not to bring up anything that had happened with Kathy. We had enough to stew over as is.

And then the phone rang.

XXXXX

 **AN: This is just part one of this chapter. It got so long that I had to split it in half. So, both parts are really chapter twelve – I just didn't want it to get too long-winded. Look out for part two tomorrow!**

 **Hope you enjoyed! If you did, please feel free to give me your thoughts – makes my day when you do!**


	13. Ponyboy Curtis's Badass Song

**Author's Note: Here's part two! Didn't want to keep y'all waiting** ** _too_** **long because I won't be here for my regular update this weekend, so I thought I'd treat you all with two. Heads-up: there's a bit of outdated language in this one. It's a direct quote from the book, and doesn't reflect my views. At the time of the book's publication, the word was commonplace. It is not my intention – or, I believe SE Hinton's or Two-Bit's – to offend.**

 **Thank you for the continued support! You're all too kind.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

 _"…_ _I asked and asked, but he wouldn't tell me. And when I called Buck to tell him to get over here, turns out he's gone. Again."_

 _"_ _Well, shit."_

 _"_ _Exactly," Darry sighed. I decided not to bring up anything that had happened with Kathy. We had enough to stew over as is._

 _And then the phone rang._

Nobody moved. Nobody said anything for a _solid_ thirty seconds. I was holding my breath – I remember that. When Darry finally stood up to answer the phone, the rest of us watched him. It was like everything happened in slow motion. I think we all knew who that phone call was gonna be about. But were they okay? Were they in jail? Had they been chopped up by an axe-murderer? Darry picked the phone up and put it to his ear.

"Yeah?" He listened for a few moments, nodding his head. The rest of us were _silent_. At one point, his eyes got really wide. Then he was nodding faster, saying 'okay' every now and then. Darry caught Sodapop's eyes. "Thank you." He hung up the phone without breaking eye contact with Soda. "That was a nurse. Calling from the ER."

Soda wilted. "Oh, _no – "_

"Stop it," Darry said forcefully. "They're home, okay? They're home. Soda, come with me. You two stay here – they ain't gonna let you in."

"Wait – why're they in the hospital?" Steve asked. "What happened?"

Darry was shrugging on his jacket, and Soda was hopping around on his feet, trying to get his shoes on. "I don't know. I don't know what the hell is going on. We just have to get down there."

Soda and Darry bolted out the door, leaving me and Steve behind in their wake, wondering what the hell was gonna happen when they got to the hospital. Funny thing was, is that in the future? This was it. It would be the three of them, and the two of us.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Besides – you probably already know how the story goes. You probably read all about it in the papers, or heard it from somebody who knew somebody who knew somebody else who knew one of us. As the, uh, _self-proclaimed gossip king of Tulsa,_ I know a little something about how word of mouth works. And in all likelihood, I can tell you that what you heard probably isn't true. Not completely true, at least. And you're never going to know exactly what happened. You pick up a string, and you follow it.

Lemme tell you what happens when you pick up this string.

After Darry and Sodapop ran out the door, Steve and I saw two options:

Follow them.

Stay here.

There was, however, an unspoken third option:

Spread the word.

And why, might you ask, would you do that, Two-Bit? Ain't this personal business? Sure it is. Sort of. But it _ain't_ so personal when one of the runaways is wanted for manslaughter, one of them is _this close_ to being a ward of the state, and the other is a known delinquent. So we didn't follow them, and we sure as shit didn't sit on our thumbs. We did what was both the dumbest and smartest thing we could've done at the time.

We tracked down Tim Shepard.

I'm really starting to hate how much I have to talk to Tim Shepard.

We found him at Jay's, which was where I had been just a bit ago with Kathy, who I kept forgetting I'd just broken up with. Is that a bad thing? Or a good thing?

"Tim." Steve spoke softly when we approached his booth, where he was sitting with some of his guys. "We have news."

Tim looked up at us with a forced look of calm on his face. Any news these days was important, no matter how small. "What's up?"

"Our guys are back," I told him. "All three of them. They're at the hospital right now."

Tim sat back in his booth. "Whaddyah mean, all three of them?"

"We think Dallas was with them," Steve explained.

"You're serious."

"As a heart attack."

"Why're you telling me all this? So they're home. Why do I care?"

Steve and I looked at each other, and I nodded. Go ahead. Steve turned back to Tim and leaned on his palms on the tabletop, inches from his face. "Those kids are in serious trouble, you know that, don't ya?"

"I've been reading the papers," Tim drawled.

"Then you know that we don't have much time."

"Much time for what?"

He was playing dumb. He knew exactly what we were getting at. But Tim wasn't gonna give in until we told him exactly what we meant. You had to play his game. It was always _his_ game. It was always the socs' game. When would it all even out? When would it _not_ be taboo to ask a pretty girl from the other side of town out on a date? Never? Fighting gives you a great high, but it wasn't clear what we were fighting for.

"Tim," I drawled, trying to sound as dangerous as possible, "this needs to happen. _Tomorrow._ "

He raised his eyebrows. "Tomorrow, huh?"

"Yes, tomorrow," Steve spat. "Ponyboy and Johnny are s'posed to appear in court! And god knows what's gonna happen to _Dallas_. If we don't do this tomorrow, it might not happen _at all._ Got that?"

Tim stared daggers at Steve, who gave it right back to him. Steve wasn't scared of Tim. He had no reason to be.

XXXXX

It all kinda goes by in a blur after that.

XXXXX

I shoved the morning edition of the paper in Steve's face, smiling like the dickens. "You see this, Stevie? Our buddies are _front page news!"_

Steve huffed a laugh and knocked the paper out of his face. "Yeah, I saw. Whaddya think they'll make of that?"

Steve and I were making our way over to the Curtis' place the next morning. Everything seemed _better_. If we won this rumble tonight, then everything would be okay again. If Cherry Valance and Randy Adderson went to the stand and testified that Johnny simply acted in self-defense, then they'd press the charges. And if they pressed the charges and got it through their thick skulls that the only place for Pony is with Darry, then he won't have to leave. See? Perfect!

"Anybody home?"

"In here!" a familiar voice yelled, and I chucked Steve on the shoulder. He smiled. Guy's never been so happy to hear Ponyboy Michael Curtis's voice in his whole life. "Don't slam the door."

We slammed the door anyways, and ran to the kitchen, where sure enough – there he was! God, it felt like it'd been a lot longer than a week since I'd seen him. I hefted him up and made him drop his eggs, which I felt sorta bad about, but I was excited. "Hey, Ponyboy! Long time no see!"

I dropped him and shoved him into Steve, who was smiling like the dickens, and Steve shoved him across the room again, making the kid break another egg. But we'd clean up the mess if it meant that _Ponyboy Curtis_ was the one making it. "Now look what you did! There went our breakfast. Can't you two wait till I set the eggs down before you go shovin' me all over the country?"

But I was focused on something else besides his whining. I circled him and he sighed. "Man, dig baldy here! I wouldn't have believed it. I thought all the wild Indians in Oklahoma had been tamed. What little squaw's got that tuff-lookin' mop of yours, Ponyboy?"

"Aw, lay off."

I winked at Steve, who said, "Why, he had to get a haircut to get his picture in the paper. They'd never believe a greasy lookin' mug could be a hero. How do you like bein' a hero, big shot?"

"How do I like _what?_ "

"Being a hero. You know" – he shoved the paper at him – "like a big shot, even."

"What I like is the 'turn' bit." I starting cleaning up the egg off the clock. "Y'all were heroes from the beginning. You just didn't 'turn' all of a sudden."

"You mean that they're thinking about putting me and Soda in a boys' home or something?" Pony asked, voice soft.

Steve couldn't look at him when he spoke next. "Somethin' like that"

" _No_."

"No what?"

"No, they ain't goin' to put us in a boys' home!"

Steve waved off his concern. "Don't worry about it. They don't do things like that to heroes." Or, I sure hope not. "Where're Soda and Superman?"

Soda and Superman came into the kitchen, moving around in a flash, and the house felt kinda full again, with the five of us. Even though Dally and Johnny were in the hospital. Because at least they were back, and they might not get thrown in jail because they'd saved all those kids.

"You know what?" Soda said to the room, "When we stomp the Socies good, me and Stevie here are gonna throw a big party and everybody can get stoned. Then we'll go chase the Socs clear to Mexico."

Darry gave him a funny look – _yeah right, pal._ "Where you gonna get the dough, little man?"

"Aw, I'll think of somethin'."

"You going to take Sandy to the party?" Pony asked.

 _Yeesh_. Way to bring down the room. I didn't want to say anything about it, Steve sure didn't look like he wanted to, and Darry kept himself busy in the kitchen. What _are_ you supposed to say to that? Kid had missed a lot. "No," Soda said casually. "She went to live with her grandmother in Florida."

"How come?"

" _Look_ ," Steve burst, "does he have to draw you a picture? It was either that or get married, and her parents almost hit the roof at the idea of her marryin' a sixteen-year-old kid."

"Seventeen," Soda reminded him. "I'll be seventeen in a couple of weeks."

"Oh."

Oh was right.

XXXXX

I jiggled on both feet, back and forth, back and forth. What sorta drugstore just carries _Gone With the Wind?_ And why did Johnny and Pony care so much?

 _"_ _You've gotta let us see the kid," I told the nurse in a low voice. "We're all he's got. The two of us" – I pointed to Ponyboy – "we're the only ones who could come to see him today."_

 _The nurse sighed. "Sir, he's in critical condition – "_

 _"_ _So?"_

 _"_ _So we don't want him getting worked up and compromising his recovery. If recovery is even possible," she whispered._

 _I drew myself up to full height and crossed my arms. "Ma'am," I said, calm, "you need to let us in to see him. We're not leaving until you do."_

"Here you go sir."

"Huh?"

The clerk held out the paper bag to me. "Here's your book, sir."

"Oh." I grabbed the book. "Uh. Thanks."

I rushed outta the drugstore and back across the street to the hospital, where they were already rushing Pony out of Johnny's room. The kid looked a bit overwhelmed, and I didn't blame him – that nurse was all up in his business about it. "Hey, hey!" I stepped up to them and pulled Pony back. "What happened?"

"I told you something like this would happen," the nurse said. "He can't handle too much excitement. You need to leave now. I'm sorry."

"Well – could you at least give this to him?" I handed her the book.

"Of course," she said. "Again, I'm sorry."

"It's alright, ma'am. Let's go, Pony."

As we started walking down the hall, Pony nudged my arm and pointed out Johnny's mother to me. "That's what he was getting so worked up about," he whispered.

I could see why. The tiny lady – who looked a helluva lot like Johnny – was screeching at this poor nurse. "But I have a right to see him. He's my son! After all the trouble his father and I've gone to to raise him, _this_ is our reward. He'd rather see those no-count hoodlums than his own folks..." The look she shot us would put the Wicked Witch of the West to shame. "It was _your_ fault. Always running around in the middle of the night getting jailed and heaven knows what else..."

I narrowed my eyes at her, and swear to god, I almost cussed her out. "No wonder he hates your guts," I spat, then grabbed Pony roughly by the arm and led him to Dally's room. "Oh, lordy!" My voice caught. "He has to live with _that_."

Dally was in better spirits. At first. But when the topic of Johnny came up….

"Uh…how's the kid?" Dally asked.

"We just left him." I thought for a second about lying to him, but I do that would do more harm than good. (Was I wrong? Should I have lied? I don't know anymore.) "I don't know about stuff like this... but...well, he seemed pretty bad to me. He passed out cold before we left him."

Dallas went white as his bedsheets. "Two-Bit, you still got that fancy black-handled switch?"

"Yeah."

"Give it here."

I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. Ten inches, jet handled. The reward of two long hours walking around the hardware store. Now, I ain't never used it before, but I make sure to pull it whenever I want somebody to know I mean business. It's a showpiece. Razor sharp. I handed it over without a word because something told me that would just make the situation worse.

"We gotta win that fight tonight," Dally said. "We gotta get even with the Socs. For Johnny."

XXXXX

"You feel okay? You're awful hot."

I go away for two minutes to grab a pack of cigarettes, and suddenly the kid's sick. Can you believe it? Can't leave this one alone for a _second_.

"I'm all right," he said, sounding a little panicky. "Don't tell Darry, okay? Come on, Two-Bit, be a buddy. I'll be well by tonight. I'll take a bunch of aspirins."

Bullshit. "All right," I drawled. "But Darry'll kill me if you're really sick and go ahead and fight anyway."

"I'm okay!" He insisted. "And if you keep your mouth shut, Darry won't know a thing."

Ahem – _bullshit._

XXXXX

"You know, the only thing that keeps Darry from bein' a Soc is us."

"I know."

XXXXX

"…I mean, I got an awful feeling something's gonna happen."

"Somethin' _is_ gonna happen. We're gonna stomp the Socs' guts, that's what."

When we got to the lot, we found Cherry Valance sitting in her car, hair pinned up and wearing a ski jacket. If I hadn't known Pony was running a temperature, I woulda said he was blushing.

"Hi, Ponyboy. Hi, Two-Bit."

"What's up with the big times?"

"They play your way. No weapons, fair deal. Your rules."

I held back from sighing in relief. Thank _god_. Tim had persuaded them after all. "You sure?"

"Randy told me. He knows for sure."

"Thanks, Cherry." I turned around and headed for home.

"Ponyboy, stay a minute," Cherry said, and I smiled to myself. I'd be sure to tease him about this later, when all this was over.

XXXXX

 _"I am a greaser. I am a JD and a hood. I blacken the name of our fair city. I beat up people. I rob gas stations. I am a menace to society. Man, do I have fun!"_

 _"Greaser... greaser... greaser...O victim of environment, underprivileged, rotten, no-count hood!"_

 _"Juvenile delinquent, you're no good!"_

 _"Get thee hence, white trash. I am a Soc. I am the privileged and the well-dressed. I throw beer blasts, drive fancy cars, break windows at fancy parties."_

 _"And what do you do for fun?"_

 _"I jump greasers!_ "

XXXXX

Seeing Paul face-to-face with Darry made me feel like we were together in high school again, and I'd never wanted to put as much distance between myself and that place as I did just then.

XXXXX

The split in my cheek got four stitches, and was gonna leave a nasty scar. Probably for the rest of my life however long that was. Like Tim Shepard. My knuckles had split open, too. Besides all that, everything hurt like a bitch.

But they ran. Those dirty fuckers ran. We won.

I don't think any of us knew what that meant.

"Looks pretty tuff, huh?" Steve asked, referring to the tooth he'd lost. Soda tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a sad wheeze.

"Looks like you've got a hole in your mouth."

"Guy had sharp teeth," Darry said to me, showing me where Paul had actually bitten him. There was dried blood caked around his mouth and running from a cut on his forehead. I had a huge welt on the side of my face opposite the gash. Steve had a couple broken ribs and Sodapop had a split lip. We were a sorry bunch, and as great as a party sounded earlier, it didn't sound so great now.

"Ponyboy?"

We all looked towards the front door. Kid looked rough, and I hate to admit it, but I hadn't even noticed he was gone. He shut the screen door and came more fully into the living room.

"Pony, where've you been?" Darry asked, voice low and calm, probably trying to keep his temper in check. Wouldn't want a repeat of last time.

"Johnny... he's dead. We told him about beatin' the Socs and... I don't know, he just died."

Wait. What? Johnny? – Dead? No. He was alive this afternoon. He was _alive._ Soda made a funny noise.

"Dallas is gone," Pony continued. "He ran out like the devil was after him. He's gonna blow up. He couldn't take it."

"So he finally broke." It hit me like a ton of bricks. "So even Dally has a breaking point."

XXXXX

And so Dallas blew up.

XXXXX

I realized after the fact (after Pony had fainted, after he'd been rushed away in an ambulance and all that was left were me and Steve, and wasn't that just the crux of it?) that when they had searched Dally's body, they hadn't found my blade.

" _Fuck_ ," I spat. "Two goddamn hours in that hardware store – _wasted_."

"Is that all that's bothering you, that switchblade?" Steve snapped. His eyes were red.

"No." I sighed, and it came out a lot shakier than I wanted it to. "But that's what I'm wishing was all that's bothering me."

XXXXX

One day? _One fucking day?_ How is that fair?

XXXXX

I don't exactly have a solid reason why I went to school on Monday. But I'd driven by Steve's house, and I'd found him just sitting on his front porch, staring out at the horizon.

"You gonna sit there all day?" I asked him.

"Maybe I will. What're you gonna do about it?"

I shrugged. "Nothin', if you don't want me to. But I was gonna go to school, if you wanted to come with me."

Steve snorted. "Why in the hell would I want to do _that?"_ He asked, voice cracking. Steve and I had cried – or, in my case, come close to it – more in the past two days than we had since we'd come outta the womb, kicking and screaming.

"Because I don't wanna go alone," I admitted. "Be kinda nice if you were there, you know. Have each other's backs."

Steve's eyes were shiny when he looked at me, and he didn't say anything, but he got in my truck – with my newly fixed brakes – and we drove off to school, where nobody bothered us. Where nobody said a word. Where it was eerily quiet and the teachers had to pretend like nothing had happened because if they didn't, what would happen – anarchy? I didn't really have any contact with anybody that Monday.

Except –

Well.

There was a note from a certain black-haired beauty in second period.

 _I'm so sorry. Maybe I wasn't hurting much before, but I'm definitely hurting now. – Bridget_

That was all it said. And I didn't respond. I read it over and over again. I wanted to know what exactly she meant. I sat on my bedroom floor that night and read it _over_ and _over_ , and what I realized – the one thing I got out of it – was that I stood a fighting chance with her. I probably shouldn't have been thinking about my love life at a time like this, but with one sentence, I figured out that I wasn't falling for her for no reason at all.

Hell – that one sentence was all the reason I ever needed.

XXXXX

 **AN: I know the formatting of that chapter was a little different, but I hope it made sense. I mean, we all know what happens in the book. So I decided to get a bit creative.**

 **Hope you enjoyed! Or – was that really** ** _enjoyable?_** **It was a hard write. But, whatever your thoughts, I'd love to hear them!**


	14. Forgetting to Remember to Remember

**Author's Note: I'm back! Yay!**

 **Okay, so here's a heads-up on this chapter – it's heavy. And when I say** ** _heavy…_** **I mean it. It's pretty dark. Not the** ** _whole_** **way through, but there are some rough patches.** ** _Really_** **rough patches. I just wanted to let you guys know so you can prepare if you need to, because it's that way pretty much as soon as the chapter gets underway. But it's all uphill from here, folks!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Lookin' good, Steve."

Steve shut his eyes and swallowed roughly. "Shut up, Two-Bit."

I almost couldn't believe how hard all of this was on him. Steve never acted this way. I patted his shoulder. "Sorry, man. I'm sorry."

"I know," he sighed. He opened his eyes back up. "I'm sorry, too."

"For what?"

Steve shook his head. His hands were shakily tying his tie, and I almost helped him with it, but decided against it. He would probably just smack my hands away. "I'm just sorry that any of this is happening."

"I don't think I've ever heard you apologize before, Steve."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, it's true. I'm even sorry the kid's so out of it like he is. And that Darry ain't gonna be able to come." He pulled his tie straight and let it fall flat against his chest. "I just can't believe any of it happened."

"Me neither."

XXXXX

"Can't believe they're even _here_."

"Wait – _that's_ Mrs. Cade? Man, I haven't seen her since before Mom and Dad died."

"She looks like shit."

Soda and Steve both nodded. We had tried desperately to avoid Johnny's parents, but they spotted us real quick and were making their way over now. It would've been funny, if Johnny weren't, ya know, _dead_. "How _dare_ the three of you show your faces here," Mrs. Cade spit. Sodapop made a funny noise in his throat and Steve closed his eyes, checking out essentially, which meant they were leaving _me_ to deal with Mr. and Mrs. Cade.

"Well, howdy, Mrs. Cade, Mr. Cade. Nice of you to join us," I greeted, smiling at them, all hundred watts. "Can't say we were expectin' y'all."

"Watch it, boy," Mr. Cade growled. "We ought to ask y'all to leave. It was you boys got him into this mess."

"No we didn't," Steve said, voice soft and angry. "This shit's all on you. If you cared about him, if you had actually _given a shit – "_

"Oh, don't talk to me like that - !"

" – if you had even _pretended_ , he wouldn't be layin' up there in that pine box," Steve finished. "Y'all hear me?"

It took about ten seconds of silence between the five of us before Mrs. Cade went postal.

" _My son is dead!"_ She screamed, over and over. "My son is _dead_ , and you have the _audacity_ – "

She was half-heartedly hitting on Steve's chest, which shouldn't have phased him but did, and Soda pried Steve away while I grabbed Mrs. Cade's hands, and Mr. Cade just stood by. Everyone, I'm sure, was staring right at us, but I zeroed in on her. In the instance, all that was real was me and her.

"Mrs. Cade," I began, keeping a tight grip on her hands. "Your son _is_ dead. He's dead. And he fuckin' hated you," I whispered bitterly. "I don't know where the hell Johnny is right now, but wherever he ended up, I'm pretty damn sure he's wishin' you weren't here. _You_ , okay? Not me, not my – _his –_ buddies. You. Got it? So how 'bout you and your husband get outta here, okay? That's the best thing you could do for him."

"How _dare_ you."

"Yeah, yeah. I know," I said gently. "I'm a monster, I _know_. Just get the hell on outta here, alright? Before God strikes you down, like he shoulda done a long time ago. Saved that poor kid."

"God will do much worse to you than he could ever do to me," she whispered, voice shaking. I smirked.

"Oh, Mrs. Cade. I have worse things to worry about than what God's gonna do to me."

XXXXX

"It's alright, Steve. Let it out."

I took a drag off my cigarette and sighed. This whole day was already a mess. Dallas apparently had some uncle in New York that had somehow gotten contacted, and he had put up the money for a decent funeral and all. Actually, there was a _lot_ of Dally's mysterious extended family hanging around the funeral parlor. They seemed copasetic. I just don't know why I'd never heard about any of 'em before. So, maybe they _weren't_ all that great after all.

Soda and I were in the bathroom, waiting for Steve to finish yakking his guts out. One look at Dallas's pale, waxy face poking out of that casket and Steve turned tail. Hell, it made me a feel a little green, too, but that's just because I hadn't been expecting it.

"I'm good. I'm good," Steve breathed as he stood up, wiped his mouth. Sodapop gave him a stick of gum.

"You sure, man?" He asked. "You don't have to go back out there if you don't wanna."

"Nope," Steve said, cocksure. "I'll be fine. Just surprised me."

"Alright. Just don't be ralphing all over the funeral home, okay?" Soda asked, and Steve rolled his eyes.

"Have any of these been open casket before?" I asked, referring to all the fucking funerals we'd been to.

"No. Mom's wasn't," Steve said quietly. "Neither was Mr. and Mrs. Curtis's. Or Johnny's. This is the first."

"Why didn't they show your mom?" Soda asked. "I get why they didn't show Johnny, or my parents. Why was your mom's closed?"

Steve shrugged. "She didn't look too bad. Just a little thin, I guess. God, I remember what she looked like the day she died, but not what she looked like alive anymore."

"I get that," Soda mumbled. "It ain't fair."

"And I don't wanna remember Dallas like _this,_ " Steve spat. "All pale and shit. He don't look right."

"He looks dead," I said gently, like he'd forgotten. "That ain't a good look on anybody."

"Shut up, Two-Bit. You know what I mean."

I took another drag off my cigarette. "I know. Sorry."

I remember Mrs. Randle's funeral. It was a long time before the Curtises died. Mrs. Randle was a nice lady, and Mr. Randle was a nicer man when she was alive. He and Steve liked each other better when she was alive. I remember she was a really sickly lady, though, and couldn't leave the house much. She died when Steve was almost fourteen, I think. She made really good banana bread.

"I don't recognize half of these people," Soda mumbled to me. "I mean, there's Tim and his crew…"

"Sylvia," Steve pointed out. "God, she looks like a tramp."

"That guy – what's his name? Jerry something-or-other? He's here. The guy who was at Johnny's? He was there when they saved those kids," I whispered.

"Looks like Buck is here, too," Soda said.

"I'm surprised he's even awake," Steve quipped.

The three of us continued to scan the crowd, Steve doggedly avoiding the front of the funeral home so he didn't have to face Dally's dead one. While the two of them kept pointing out people to each other, there were two I had stopped on – one in particular. Now, I don't usually go in for the whole _my heart skipped a beat_ thing, but I think mine completely _stopped_ when I saw Cherry Valance and Bridget sitting together in the back of that funeral home. The two of them could've stopped traffic. Bee's hair, for once, completely fit the occasion. The dark, shiny curls did a better job of shrouding her face than the veil did. The two of them shouldn't be here, or didn't _have_ to be, but here they were, and I couldn't figure out why. But I remembered the note she'd given me, how Bee said she was hurting now.

But I don't think she was hurting for Dallas. And that was what I held on to, even though it confused me.

XXXXX

My hands were sweating. Bad. I felt like I was gonna be sick. It felt too much like how it was after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had died. Mom had come over with Sadie, and they'd been in the kitchen, and we'd all eaten dinner. But this time, Johnny and Dally weren't here. Because they were dead. And Pony was sick – hadn't even been able to go to the funerals. Darry had stayed home with him.

Too many goddamn funerals in one year, that's what this was.

Steve had gone home. He was on good terms with his dad for the moment – his dad had gone to the funeral, too, at Steve's request – so he'd left. Mom and Sadie had gone home, too. I had gone home, but I'd come back. Because I was guilty as hell. Because I'm a horrible friend. Because none of this should have happened.

Because this? Is _alllllllll_ my fault.

"Two-Bit? What the hell are you doing here, man?" Darry asked, but he didn't sound mad. Just tired. "It's –"he checked his watch" – past midnight, _Jesus_."

"Can we talk for a sec?" I asked. "Please?"

Darry blinked slowly. "Sure. Yeah, Two-Bit. What's wrong?"

What's wrong? What's _right?_

"I need to tell you something," I told him as I came into the house, loosening my tie. I hadn't bothered to change. "And I understand if you get mad at me. It's okay."

"Two-Bit, I have no idea what you're talking about."

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, but I didn't open it. Just held it. I couldn't look Darry in the eyes. I was too damn ashamed. "The other day, before the rumble, there was something I should have told you," I called over my shoulder.

Darry came into the kitchen and sat at the table. I could feel his eyes on me. Burning into my backside. "What's that?"

I swallowed roughly, past the lump in my throat I hadn't noticed was there. "Uh," I choked. "Um. The kid – Ponyboy – when we left the, uh, the hospital…man, was he sick. I knew it. He was in real rough shape, and I shoulda told you, I _should've_ , but he made me promise not to." I laughed, but nothing was funny. "Last time I promise that kid anything." I turned around finally and faced my buddy. His face was unchanging, unemotional, and for the first time in a long time, I couldn't read him. "Darry, I'm sorry. If I'd'a told you, this wouldn't have happened."

If I hadn't done _x, y, z,_ a lot of this wouldn't have happened. If I hadn't offered to walk those girls to my car. If I hadn't left Pony and Johnny alone in the lot. If I'd've just _told_ Darry – who's a fourteen-year-old kid to boss me around, anyways? – a lot of this could've been avoided. Johnny and Dallas might even still be alive.

"Two-Bit, are you…are you _crying?"_

"What?" I ran a hand down my face, and – yeah, I was. "No, I'm not crying. I'm not a fucking pussy."

Darry shrugged. "Dunno 'bout that."

"Ain't you mad at me?" I yelled. "Darry, for Christ's sakes, _hit me_ or something! I fucked up! The kid's laid up in there, Johnny and Dallas are _dead_ , I lied to your face, and – "

"And what?" Darry asked. "What? Two-Bit, we all fucked up. Look, I knew before the rumble that something was up with Pony. I _knew_ it. I saw it, too. I shouldn't have let him make me think otherwise. Shoulda put my foot down. But I didn't, did I?"

"Well, no –"

"Exactly. I didn't. And you know what? Dallas fucked up, too. He lied to us, too. He shouldn't have hid Pony and Johnny away from us. I mean, I _get_ why he did it. But that don't mean I like it. We can't fix that now. So you can cry all you want, but don't be cryin' cuz you think what's going on with Pony is all your fault. Cuz it _ain't_."

I sat down across from Darry and tried to laugh. "I told you I ain't cryin'."

"Yeah, you are. Now shut up about it."

"I really am sorry."

"I know you are. It's okay." He ran a hand through his hair. "How, uh, how did it _really_ go, the past couple days?"

I blew out a breath and tried to laugh again, but like I said, things really weren't funny right now. "Darry, it was shit. And it wasn't just because, ya know, they're _dead_. Johnny's was a shitshow. Mrs. Cade threw this conniption fit before the whole thing started. Screamed in our faces. You prolly already know this, but Soda could barely keep it together. And Dallas's…man, Steve actually _threw up_ when he saw Dally. It was _weird_." I thought of Dallas's face, how unnatural it looked, how pale and lifeless and _angry,_ waxy and just too firm. I shook my head. "You shoulda been there, though. The both of you. It's hard to believe you had to miss it."

"I wish I coulda been there, too," Darry said quietly. "Steve, uh, Steve didn't throw up on the spot, did he?"

"Naw, man. He didn't."

"Good."

I nodded. I still hadn't opened my beer. And I remembered something. "Can I tell you something else?"

Darry sighed. "Can't believe there's anything left to tell."

"Well, there is. You know how I broke up with Kathy, right?"

"Right."

"And you remember, a while back, I told you about that girl? The one I thought was a bitch?"

Darry narrowed his eyebrows. "Maybe."

I sighed. "Man – she was _there_. Today. With _Cherry Valance._ "

"Oh?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay," Darry shrugged. "So they were there. Why should that matter?"

I shook my head in frustration. "You're not getting it. I don't _care_ about Cherry Valance, alright? Leave that to Ponyboy." Darry's eyes widened, but he let me keep rolling. "It's the other one."

"Does she have a _name?_ "

I sat back. In all this time, had I not mentioned her name to him? I used to talk to Darry about girls all the time – and he did, too. Why was I trying to hide this one from him? "Uh, well, yeah."

"Then _what is it?_ "

"Uh. Bridget Stevens."

Darry kinda smirked. "Really. Huh."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"She's that new girl, right?"

I frowned. "You know about her? _How?_ Ain't like you're in school anymore."

Darry shrugged. "What can I say? News is slow some days. So why was she there?"

I shrugged. "That's just it. I don't _know_ why! She was just…there."

"And…she didn't know him?"

"Not exactly, no."

"But _you_ know this girl?"

All of a sudden, it was like the floodgates opened, and I told Darry everything. Not about the huge, stupid crush I had on a girl way out of my league, but everything else. I told him about her and Jimmy Hopper and beating him up, and I told him about the fight with Matt Watson and how she ratted me out, and I told him about the notes, and just, well, _everything._

"I know I told you…that she was a huge bitch, or something. But," I drawled, "I dunno. I don't really think that anymore. She's a nice girl. Good-lookin', I guess."

Darry stared at me like I was nuts. "You _guess_."

I shrugged. "Yeah, man. Lotta people think so. Even your ol' pal Jerry Thompson."

He ignored that last comment. "Holy shit."

"What?"

"Holy shit, Two-Bit," Darry breathed. "Man, _holy shit._ "

I frowned. "What? Darry, you're freaking me out here! C'mon, _what_?"

He had this funny look on his face. It was the kind of face where you knew what they were going to say next was something you already knew deep-down inside. Why is it someone else can always say what you're afraid to?

"Two-Bit," he said, "you're _in love with her._ "

Wait - what the fuck? _In love?_ Two-Bit Mathews doesn't fall in love. No. Nuh-uh. Girls are gross! Right? It's first grade, and girls are _gross._ With a capital _G._ I don't need to be in love. I don't _want_ to be in love! Yuck!

"The fuck I am!" I yelped. "That girl is the – what's the word? – _bane_ of my existence. And what do you know about it anyway? Ain't like you've ever been in love before, _Darrel._ "

He shrugged. "Well, I dunno. Carol Dickinson sure was a nice girl, don't you think?"

"Well yeah _sure-_ "

"And weren't you just saying that this Bridget is a _nice girl?_ "

"Yes! Darry, where're you going with this?"

" _And_ didn't you say you think she's good-lookin'?"

"She is," I admitted. "Lots of people think so."

Darry smiled. "Yeah, but, you _really_ think so. Don't ya?"

Oh, man. Man oh man oh man. Darry, damn his eyes, was right. Y'all just ask what Thompson thinks of that gap 'tween her teeth, and you tell me if he's even noticed it, let alone think it's what ties her whole face together, along with the eyes and the freckles and the…just _everything_.

"Fuck," I breathed. "Man, fuck you."

"Why?" He laughed. "I ain't done nothin'. It's you who's in love with the girl. Why can't you admit it?"

"Oh, I _can_ -"

"You _can't_ ," he pressed. "You can't. Hell, Two-Bit, you beat up Hopper cuz he talks shit to her, you let her get you sent to detention, you stick up for this gal at _every_ _corner_ , and you can't say that you're in love with her."

"Darry, I can fuckin' say it!"

"Then say it!"

Going to be honest here: Darrel Curtis is a real pain in my ass most of the time. Yeah, I know he could probably say the same thing about me, but we've known that about each other for _years_. He and I? We've been buddies since time began. So we both knew I wasn't gonna say it. But it was my job to tell him I could.

"Darry."

"What?"

"She doesn't love me."

That's what I said instead. It's true. She doesn't. It happens. I mean, lookit me and Kathy. We're together, and we sure as shit don't love each other. We don't get along. Me and Bee don't get along, but don't you see? That makes it so much worse. _So_ much worse. I don't hate her. I don't hate her at all. She just pisses me off.

"How do you know?"

He looked at me like this was just all too much to be dealing with right now. Sodapop was sitting with Ponyboy in his room, waiting for the kid to wake up, and I come over here blubbering about what a horrible friend I am, and now here we are, talking about my shitty love life. I'm the worst.

"It doesn't matter," I said. I leaned back in my chair and stared out the window. The sun was coming up. That's how long we'd been talking. "I'll get over it."

And I would. Because I always do. Darry sighed, slowly, like he was seventy years old.

"Two-Bit," he said, _slowly_ , "if there's anything we need to learn from the last couple weeks, it's that we need to stop sitting around and waiting. You're not going to get over it. So if you don't do something about this, Two-Bit, you'll never forgive yourself." He paused, and allowed himself to smile. "And then, if you let this girl get away from you, I'll remind you of it for the rest of your life."

I looked away from the window and back at him, still frowning and pissed. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"It _means_ that years from now, if you're still hanging around Kathy, and you bring her 'round here, and you're bitching at each other like you _always_ do, I'll look at you and say, 'Remember Bridget Stevens? She married Jerry Thompson. Think that could've been you.'"

I felt all the heat rise to my face. "We're not talking about marriage here, Darry."

"No, but we are talking about love. I'm not sayin' go over and propose to her right now. That ain't what I'm sayin'. What I am sayin' is that you're not gonna get over her. Not right now. So don't give up on her, that's all."

"You're wise beyond your years, Darry."

"Yeah, well…" He gestured to the space around him. Like _all of this_ was why. I got it.

"Right," I agreed. "Oh, Darry. I'm so fucked."

"You sure are."

"I can't be in love. I'm a dumbass."

"You sure are."

"She don't want nothing to do with me. I'm a hood."

"You sure are."

I scowled. Darry laughed. Fine. Let him. Let him laugh at my misery! "You're a bad friend," I pouted, but that just made Darry laugh harder.

"Guess that makes two of us."

"Aw, Darry. That ain't true. I was just kiddin'. You're the best pal a guy could have."

Darry laughed again, but he was a bit misty this time. "I could say the same about you, ya know. Thank you, for what you've done the past couple days. Man, you take all this shit in stride. I don't think most people get that about you."

Yeah, that was true. Most people thought I was just a bum that liked to make jokes and lift stupid shit from stores. Some days, that was all I was. But I didn't know what else I was, and if I was _really_ taking all this in stride or not. But I didn't say all that. "Thanks, Darry." And I meant a lot by that. "Hey – Darry?"

"Yeah?"

"What did Steve's mom die from? I can't remember anymore."

He looked a bit taken aback by the question, but he didn't ask why I was asking him in the first place. "Oh. Uh, diabetes. She had diabetes, and that's what got her."

I thought about Steve, talking about how his mom had been a little thin at the time she died. How he couldn't remember anymore what she had looked like alive. Already, I think I was forgetting what Johnny and Dallas looked like, and they'd been alive just a few days ago.

So, here I was: Two-Bit Mathews, mourning and in love.

Those two things didn't balance each other out. In fact, I think the whole _being-in-love_ thing kinda made it all worse.

XXXXX

 _Alright, Mathews. Time to man up. What are you even doing here? You're a dumbass, that's what you are. No. No. Time to move the fuck on. Darry's right. No more waiting around. Time to start movin' on, like everyone else. She ain't just gonna come to me. That's why you're here. Sitting in the parking lot, trying to get up the nerve to talk to a girl you ain't s'posed to be talkin' to in the first place._

 _You're a dumbass, Keith._

"Hey! Hey, you! Need a lift?"

I'm so dumb. Bridget was in her full pom-pom girl uniform. Steve and I had come to the game, just to get our minds off things, but he'd left almost as soon as the game ended. I was hoping to catch her. She rolled her eyes – that's her signature, isn't it? – and shook her head.

"With _any_ body but _you_ , Two-Bit."

"Testy, eh? I see."

"Ugh. Leave me alone, Two-Bit."

So that's how she was deciding to play it today. One day, she's writing me sympathetic notes and showing up to my buddy's funeral, and the next she's rolling her eyes at me. Alright. I'll play along. I cocked an eyebrow at her, a sight I'm sure she was getting sick of. "Well, Bridget. It's gettin' _awful_ nasty out here. See them clouds?"

She followed to where my finger was pointing. I could see her body heave with a sigh. "Yeah, I see them."

"Well, it don't take no Harvard _geek_ to know those got rain in 'em. When those open up, you'll get mighty cold, Miz Bee. And by the looks of those absolutely _rosy_ cheeks and nose of yours, I'd say you're already there."

She stared at me. Maybe she was thinking of just turning around and walking away. That'd be cool. I'd let her. Can't be lookin' _too_ desperate. "I guess I'm kinda cold."

I smirked. "I thought so. Ya know I don't bite, Bee. Would you rather put up with me for twenty minutes, or a cold for a week?"

"Well. I guess I'd rather put up with you."

"Ha! I knew you'd come through!"

She just shook her head and got into my truck for a second time, her skirt settling over the seat and brightening the whole place up. She didn't say much, didn't even _thank_ me, just stared out the window. Well, that wouldn't do, so I decided to engage her in some friendly conversation. Or, maybe it wasn't exactly friendly. I was being nosy, okay? Shut up.

"Ain't you seein one of the players?" I asked. She nodded.

"Jerry Thompson." Yep. Knew that. Everyone knew that.

"Lovely, lovely. You like being a Pom-Pom girl?"

"Yeah, I do. But...I dunno. I feel like I'm not exactly Pom-Pom girl material."

"Oh, I dunno 'bout that. Hell, you looked fine out there to me. Just as cheery as the rest of them."

"Thanks, Two-Bit,"

Now, she'll tell you the next part of this conversation didn't happen. In _fact_ , she'll tell you a totally different story. She does that a lot. I don't think she's trying to be mean when she lies like that, I think she's trying to protect herself in her own way. And others. So what _she'll_ tell you is something about a disagreement about what was on the radio. That ain't what happened. _This_ is what happened:

"You like him?"

"Who?" She asked.

"Jerry."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Why do you care?"

I shrugged. "Just makin' conversation, Miz Bee," I grinned. She huffed.

"I like him fine," she told me. I hummed.

"That's it? _Fine?_ That ain't exactly a glowin' write-up?"

Bridget shook her head. "What I think of my boyfriend is none of your business. How would you like if it I just started asking you about your girlfriend?"

Well, I wouldn't mind because I don't exactly _have_ one anymore. "I don't mind. Go ahead – shoot."

Bee didn't ask any questions. Like I thought she wouldn't. I pulled up in front of her house and waited for her to get out. She smoothed her skirt. "Thanks for the ride, Two-Bit," she said, and she _did_ smile at me. I remember that. So I smiled back.

"Anytime, Miz Stevens! I'm your chauffeur."

Here's another part she leaves out:

"Bee?"

"Huh?"

I thought for a second about not bringing it up, about how I gotta be moving on, but that's easier said than done, so I went ahead and said it. "I, uh, wanted to thank you. I saw you at the funeral the other day. So – thanks for coming. And for the note."

It felt weird, saying all that, like I shouldn't have said anything.

"Oh," she breathed. "You're welcome, Two-Bit. I wasn't sure I should go."

"Well, I'm glad you did."

"I'm sorry that all this happened," she went on. "Everything feels so different. And I haven't been here long. I can't imagine how it feels."

"How what feels? Ain't like this'll necessarily change anything."

"That's not what I meant. What I meant was, that I can't imagine how it feels to lose a friend like that. Bob wasn't really my friend – not really. Cherry is, but he wasn't very nice to me. I don't know why. All of his other friends were." She slid her eyes over to look into mine. Her eyes were bright, bright, grassy green. They looked out of place against the drab November backdrop. "I know what Cherry did for you," she said quietly. "That she, uh, _spied_ for you. I guess that was a pretty brave thing for her to do, huh?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, it kinda was." I didn't tell her that I would've rather it been her. "Took real guts."

"She's a good friend," Bee whispered. "And she's a better person than I am." Bee swallowed roughly, then forced a smile. "I don't know why I'm saying all this. It's – I'm sorry. Thanks again for the ride."

"No problem," I whispered.

She looked at me, straight in the eye, for a few more seconds, and I looked right back at her. When she got out of the truck and went up her front walk, I made sure she got inside. And when I drove away, all I could think about was how her face looked when she said Bob Sheldon hadn't been very nice to her, and figured that maybe there weren't many people in her past that _did_.

XXXXX

"Keith?"

I looked up from the TV and saw Sadie standing in the doorway, dressed in her nightgown. "What's up, girly-girl? Ain't you s'posed to be in bed?"

She shrugged, and came over and sat down next to me on the couch. "Can't sleep."

"Why's that?" I guess that was the remark she was looking for, because she started bawling. _Bawling_. Her face got all red and splotchy in the glow of the TV, her nose was running, and her breaths were coming in hiccups. "Sadie? Sadie! What's all this about?"

"I was _wrong_ ," she whispered. "I forgot."

"What did you forget?"

"I _do_ know dead people. I always have."

My chest got tight. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis, and Stevie's mom. They've been dead a long time. And I forgot."

I sighed. "Sadie, it's okay. You didn't mean to forget."

"That makes it _worse_. That means I forgot to remember. How are we s'posed to honor them if we forgot to remember them?"

"I don't know," I answered, my voice sounding robotic, even to me. "But it's okay, Sadie."

"And now your friends are dead." The tears started spilling silently again. "Poor Johnny. He was always nice to me."

"Yeah, he was over here a lot, wasn't he?"

She nodded. "One day, I'll forget to remember him, too."

She hiccupped and started up again, and started clinging to my side. And ya know what? I cried. Okay? I cried. Cuz I would've been a fucking asshole if I didn't cry just then. You don't just _not_ cry when your kid sister cries. Only assholes don't cry when their kid sisters cry. So fuck you.

XXXXX

 **AN: Not the** ** _nicest_** **note for Two-Bit to leave you on, but I didn't say this was exactly a** ** _nice_** **chapter. But I hope you enjoyed it in some way! If you did, be sure to let me know. I see you lurkers! I'd love to hear your thoughts :)**


	15. Bonnie and Clyde

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Next chapter here. Thank you for your continued reads and reviews – keep it up!**

 **This chapter is a** ** _bit_** **heavy in content – mostly having to do with alcohol. But not the whole way through. Like I said last chapter, we're all uphill from here on out. Stick with me.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Alright, boys – this is it."

Buck pushed open the door and let us into Dally's old room. Me, Steve, and Darry started looking around for anything that might be important, and then left the rest for Buck to throw out. It all felt too impersonal. And we didn't find much. No hidden messages or gold or diamonds. Nothin'.

Well.

Not _nothin'._

In fact, thinking back on it, I think what I found was real important.

I was looking through the old desk drawers when I found an envelope. I opened it to check if anything was inside, and lo and behold – there was. What looked like an unfinished letter, to who I do not know. And I did not care. What I cared about was the last couple sentences.

 _Bee Stevens and Vickie Harper know each other. Here's to hoping Vickie won't tell that big mouth about what happened – god knows she'd spill the whole damn thing._

I felt a lump growing in my throat. This better not have anything to do with Ponyboy and Johnny disappearing. Because anything that implicates that poor, naïve girl ain't good.

"What's that, Two-Bit?" Darry asked. I looked up at him, surprised at hearing my name.

"What? Oh – nothin'. Garbage."

"Oh. Okay." He didn't quite sound like he believed me, but he let the subject drop, and I tore of the part of the letter that mentioned Bee and Vickie stuffed the paper into my pocket, knowing what I had to do next.

But first, I needed a drink.

XXXXX

It isn't exactly a secret that I like to drink. Must be in my blood. I remember my old man, how he was. And look, I ain't lookin' to defend him, but he was a pretty sad guy. His whole life. Never got anywhere. So I guess I got it. I got why he did it. He was a fish outta water here. I'm not saying that makes what he did any better, I'm just sayin' it ain't without reason. And I'm also sayin' that it's my personal theory that he was a fish in more ways than one, if you get what I'm saying, and that I'm no different.

"What'd you do – _bathe_ in whiskey last night?" Steve asked me. I could tell he was fed up. Fed up with me. Fed up with school. Fed up with this town. Just fed up. Hell, so was I. That's why I was like this: sitting in my truck, concentrating on my dash with my hands curled tight around the steering wheel, concentrating on not throwing up. I couldn't tell if I'd crossed over into hangover territory or not yet, but I was feeling pretty miserable. Like I couldn't focus.

I don't know if it's just Johnny and Dallas, or if it's that plus the fact that Bee Stevens is getting dragged closer to all this than I'm comfortable with. I think I was praying when I thought, _Dear God, please don't let ruin her. Don't let us ruin her. Don't let us ruin her. Don't let us ruin her. Please, God. You've already hurt Ponyboy and crushed Darry and Soda and Steve, and I know I'm a lost cause. Please. You don't know what a good thing she is. Don't let me ruin her._

"Something like that," I said slowly, my voice not sounding like my own. It was thicker. "Ya know, why don't you just head on in there? When I'm positive I ain't gonna hurl, I'll get out."

Steve sighed. "Yeah, okay." I heard him get out, and he didn't even slam the door. But a few moments later, I could see him lean in the window. I turned a bit so I could see him. "Ya know, I hate to say this, man, but you're reminding me an awful lot of your dad right now. The way he used to walk around."

I know he didn't mean to be a dick. I _know_ that. But the thought of being anything like my old man, no matter how true a statement it was, didn't sit well with me. Hell, it was almost enough to make me puke all over the cab of my truck.

"Don't," I grit out. "Don't you fucking _dare_."

Steve sighed again. "Two-Bit, buddy, I didn't mean it like that," he tried to explain. "I didn't," he repeated when I didn't say anything. "I just…I _meant_ – "

"I know what you meant. Go, Steve. I'll be along in a bit."

I could tell he wanted to say something else, but he got wise and decided to move along. Thing is, I really did know what he meant. But I wasn't ready to admit to that. Not just yet.

That note burned a hole in my pocket for the first half of the day. I could've just thrown it away. I could've just never told her about it. She would never have to know it existed. But I'm a selfish bastard, and I wanted (needed) to see her. I needed an excuse to. Because so far, without one, there's no reason the two of us should ever speak. And I couldn't live with that, not when I'd broken it off with Kathy to do this. Not when I'd spilled my guts to Darry. Nope. No, sir. So when the lunch period was over, and me and Steve had gotten back from driving around and we were headed to class, I caught her coming out of the cafeteria. Just sidled up right next to her and lit a cigarette, which she didn't seem to appreciate, but hey – I have an image.

"I have to ask a favor of you," I mumbled around my smoke.

"What sort of favor?" Bee asked, voice low, the whole thing real on the QT.

"I was hoping you could meet me after school."

Her eyes bulged a bit. "To do _what?"_

"I got somethin' to give you."

Bee rolled her eyes. "A little _early_ for Christmas presents, don't you think?"

"That may be so, Miz Bee, but better early than never, amiright?"

"You are," she shrugged, allowing it.

"So…meet me then. I'll be here in the school parking lot at seven. Think you can be there?"

She thought about it. But she didn't have to think long. "I guess I could be," she said.

"Good deal. See ya then."

XXXXX

"Keith?"

"Yeah, ma?"

"Are you alright?"

Mom eyed me skeptically. I grinned at her.

"'Course I am. Never better."

"That is a lie."

Well – yeah. I don't think she was liking the sound of my voice. I wasn't sleeping, and in the time I wasn't sleeping, I was smoking. So I sounded pretty fucked up.

Because I _guess_ , at the moment, I _was_ pretty fucked up.

XXXXX

I know what Steve's getting at when he says I'm acting like my old man used to. Smoking two packs a day and drinking like a fish in water. And like I said, I dunno what exactly it was, or what combination of factors, but my voice sounded like a goddamn eighty-year-old man's and my hands were shaking like crazy. At least I wasn't stumbling around like the drunk I was. But that's what I was doing while I waited on Bee on the steps to the school – smoking a cigarette and making sure to inhale so deep I could practically _feel_ the cancer that the health board was always talking about on television building up in my lungs. It felt real, and that's the feeling I was looking for.

I was on my second smoke since I'd gotten there when I heard her voice.

"Hey."

I looked up and stopped playing with my lighter. I smiled.

"Well, hey. I thought you was never gonna show up."

"So," Bee drawled (which is a funny word to describe her voice, when she pronounces _yeah_ like _yea-uh_ and drawling words is really more a guy like me's sorta thing to do), "What did you want to see me about?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the note. Pressed it into her hand. I could feel my rough skin catching against the softness of hers. I began to explain.

"Buck had us clean out Dallas' old room, and when Steve, Darry, and I were goin' through it, we found that. Ain't sure why, but it was there. And your name and someone else's name is on that...I dunno if you know her though. I just saw the names...I dunno what it's about."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, well, I think I've heard that you run in the same circle as her," I said, downplaying what I really knew. What I really knew about her friends. What I really knew about Vickie Harper and how all I wanted to do was tell Bridget to stay the hell away from her. Before she could ruin her. "And I know you better than her...So. Yeah."

(She'll tell you I cried. I didn't fucking cry. Girl thinks I'm more sensitive than I really am.)

"Thanks, Two-Bit," she said, but she sounded more confused than anything.

"No problem." I coughed lightly. I needed to pull back on the smokes.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I will be. Prolly just comin down with somethin'," I lied.

Her voice was soft when she said, "I didn't think smoking and being sick mixed too well."

I shrugged. "I ain't sick anyways." Which was the truth. I didn't want her to know the _truth_. "Coughs don't count as sick."

"Oh yeah? What if you got pneumonia or something? Does _that_ count?"

"Well, sure it does." I thought of Ponyboy, sitting around at home, bored out of his mind. But at least he was alive. "But I ain't got pneumonia."

" _Yet_."

I shot her a look, and she just shrugged her little shoulders and sighed. Bee's arms were crossed tightly across her chest, and I finally figured that without a coat in this weather, she was probably pretty cold. "Why didn't you bring a coat?"

She shrugged again. "I thought this would go faster."

Now _that's_ rich. "Not with me, sweetheart. I can run my mouth like nobody's business. I thought you knew that. Here." And like the suave, southern-ish gentleman I am, I gave her mine. "You'll catch your death."

She didn't show any reluctance when she took it at first. Put it on and everything. She must be confused by such acts of kindness like being offered jackets and rides home because she ain't very good at thanking people. Something to work on, but hey – we all got something we need to get better at. But she took it off and tried to hand it back to me, but I shook my hand.

"Don't even _think_ about it! I don't need it," I scolded, because that was the truth. But she shook her head.

"Yes, you do. You're sick, you need it."

"I ain't _sick_ –"

"Oh, yes you _are!"_

"I ain't takin' it, Stevens!"

She took a step back from me and scowled, shrugging my jacket back on. "You're quite the gentleman, Two-Bit," she whispered, voice bitter. I smirked at her, and pretended to be bashful.

"Yeah, that's what my ma tells me."

Bridget just stared at me for a moment. Allow me to digress for a moment – this girl's got a great smile. And when I say that, I mean it. I watched this girl go from scowling at me like I was the gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe to smiling at me like she was chattin' to Paul Newman instead of little ol' me. I don't know exactly what it was because that line wasn't exactly my best material, but I guess it worked. Hell, the only reason _I_ laughed was because I'd gotten her to.

"You're a hard one to crack, Miz Bee," I teased.

"No, I'm not," she insisted, shy.

Which, let me tell you, that was actually funny. She thinks she ain't hard to crack? Ain't the most difficult person I've met in my entire life? Yeah – that's a good one.

"Two-Bit?"

"What's up, Peach?"

Bee shifted on her feet and couldn't look me in the eye when she asked, "Do you think...well. Do you think…that I'm…a happy person?" Her tone was very serious. She wanted a real answer. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Well…yeah. Yeah, I do. I mean...Yeah." That's all I had. She _seemed_ happy, even if I didn't know what exactly it was that _made_ her happy.

"Oh. I just thought...I dunno."

I shoved my hands into my pockets and sighed. "Bridget?"

She looked a bit surprised, and I think it's because I used her real name. "Yes?"

"Happy is good, kid," I told her. "Happy people ain't posers, they just got more perspective than your average bear."

"I-I know, Two-Bit. That's not-"

"Just keep that in mind," I interrupted, leaning in, "next time you think you _can't_ be happy. It ain't a sin." Even if it sometimes felt like one.

"I'll keep it in mind."

She stared right at me, and we didn't say anything. I think she wanted me to say something else. I think she wants a lot more from me than I give her. "Good," I breathed. I pointed to the piece of paper in her hand. "Be sure to read that for me."

"I will. I should probably be getting home now."

"Yeah. You should."

"Yeah," Bee repeated _(yes-uh)_ , voice dreamy. She started to take off my jacket, but I held up a hand to stop her.

"No. No. Keep it for now. I'll be good."

XXXXX

"Hey – Two-Bit?"

I take two steps into the Curtis's place and Darry's already looking at me like I broke one'a his lamps. "What's up, Darry?"

He waved me over, and I followed him into the kitchen. "Seriously, Darry, what's up? Is it the kid?"

Darry shook his head quickly. "No – no. Well – no. It kinda has to do with him, though."

"O _kay_ ," I drawled. "So what is it?"

Darry pursed his lips. "That girl, the one you're in love with?"

I rolled my eyes. Darry kinda smirked, but he seemed serious. "Sure, _Darrel_. What about 'er?"

Darry looked a bit lost about what he said next. "I, uh. I _met_ her. She came by to see Ponyboy. Like that Randy guy did. They have some class together. They talked for a while, man."

I raised an eyebrow. "Okay. Why're you telling me this, Darry?"

I think I already knew why he was telling me this, I just wanted to hear him say it. "Just, uh – that was real nice of her, is all. I dunno, man. I already like her a helluva lot better than Kathy, that's for sure."

I could've kissed him for an endorsement that good.

XXXXX

 _Bridget-_

 _You mind meeting again in the parking lot tonight? Seven? I wanna ask a follow-up question_

 _-Two-Bit_

XXXXX

I wish she hadn't seen me drinking, but she did. Because it wasn't like this was me crackin' open a cold one with Darry. No, sir. So when Bee pulled up to the school and came to sit down _right next to me, my Lord,_ she looked concerned for me for the first time.

"Oh my _god_ , Two-Bit."

"Don't say a damn word. Not a damn word." My voice was dry and I don't know if she could tell, but I was gettin' pretty fed up with the women in my life jumping on my case. I wasn't trying to be a dick, but…c'mon.

"The hell is wrong with you?"

I laughed, but nothing was funny. "I dunno, Bridget. I dunno." I smeared a hand down the side of my face, feeling more tired just then than I'd ever had before in my life. "I slept for twenty hours straight the other day. Twenty! That...That ain't right."

Bee's a mother hen. She tried to feel up my forehead, but I swatted her away. That wasn't the problem, and she was never gonna _know_ the problem. I was doing all I could to keep her in this, but the least amount of _in this_ that I could. I wanted her here. But I didn't want her to know what _here_ was doing to me.

" _Don't_ ," he snapped. "My ma's been doin' that all week. I'm _sick_ of it. I'm sick of people feeling my forehead, and askin' me if I'm okay, and if I'm feeling down about Johnny and Dallas dyin'." I shook my head. "'Cuz ya know what? All they're gonna find out is that I'm not feelin' okay, and I _am_ down about my friends dying."

Bridget's eyes bore into mine. She'll tell you I looked like I was about to cry – maybe even tell you that I _was_ crying. But that ain't the truth. But maybe she saw something that night, cuz she said, "Two-Bit, please, _please_ don't start crying." Like she wouldn't be able to handle it.

As soon as she said it, she started blushing, and I started laughing. She put her hands up to her face like she was trying to hide, but it was no use. "You're a funny girl, Bee," I chuckled. I could tell she was trying not to smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

I cleared my throat to clarify. "But not funny like me. I'm _haha_ funny. You're the weird kinda funny."

She laughed again. "You make me laugh, Two-Bit."

I remembered what those two girls said on Halloween to me. About what they'd overheard her saying to…ya know. Jerry. That she thought I was annoying, but funny. Annoying but funny. I could work with that. "I do?" I asked, feigning surprise. "Well, good! I like makin' you laugh." And I meant that.

Bee shot me a look. "You're easy to laugh _at_."

"I could say the same thing about you, ya know."

"I know."

I laughed so hard that I aggravated my early-onset smoker's cough, and she pounded my back.

"You're not okay," she whispered.

I shook my head, but I was agreeing with her. "No, I'm not. I'm really not."

"You should get home. It's cold out here."

"I should, but I don't wanna." I didn't want to face my mother. Didn't want to face Sadie. But especially my mother, who I knew when she looked at me would only be able to see my father. "I figgered I might head over to Buck's tonight, maybe Brookie's. Get trashed. I dunno. I just don't really wanna go home."

"I wish you wouldn't. It's not doing you any good," she whispered. I raised an eyebrow.

"And why should _you_ care?" Like I've said – one day, she hates me. The next, she's all concerned for my health. Up is down with this girl, and down is sideways.

"I read the note," she said instead, ignoring my question. I didn't press her on it.

"Yeah? What'd it say?"

"Not much. Just mentioned my friend Vickie Harper, and how he hoped she wouldn't tell me about something. Any idea what that something might be?"

I shook my head. There were more holes in this than Swiss cheese. "Not a clue. Guess we could do some more investigatin'..."

We smiled at each other. And what she was giving me was real.

"Look, Two-Bit. Lemme take you home. I-I can drive you home, if you'd like. I really don't mind," she whispered, annoyingly polite.

"Now why would I let you do that?"

Bee shrugged. "You deserve a break. After...Everything."

Yes. _Everything_. All of it. The whole shebang. I patted her shoulder and smiled down at her. "I _love_ this change in attitude you've had towards me, Bee Stevens. Sounds like a plan, peach."

She smiled again. I couldn't get her to _stop_ smiling these days.

XXXXX

"Did you come home… _early_ last night?" My mother asked. I frowned.

"Yeah," I drawled. "Guess I did. Why?"

"I was just surprised. Where is your car?"

Oh, yeah. Bee had given me a ride home last night. Dropped me off in her father's white T-Bird. I hoped I wasn't blushing because if I was, my mother would jump all over me. "Just got a ride home last night. That's all."

"Oh. From who?"

I shrugged. "Nobody special. Just this girl."

My mother made an interested noise. "A girl?" She asked. Even her _voice_ was smiling. "A new one?"

"A _nicer_ one?" Sadie asked, and I scowled at her.

"It's none of y'all's business." I crossed my arms. "You don't even know her."

"You have to _introduce_ her," Sadie told me, her mouth full of cereal so that I got a full view of milk and mushed-up Cheerios. She shook her head like I was an idiot. "You _never_ bring home nice girls."

I laughed in surprise. "Really! Never." Sadie shook her head, and I was surprised to see my mother doing the same. "Really, Ma?"

"I think you could do…better," she said carefully. "I really do. That is all."

Well, if things go according to my half-crocked plan…I will. Do better.

Allow me to explain.

XXXXX

 **AN: Please tell me you're ready for this to get really romantic. Because it's about to** ** _reeeeeeeaaaaallllll_** **quick. And I'm ready for it.**

 **Hope you enjoyed! If you did, please be sure to let me know! Review, fave, follow, PM me…it's all good. Don't be afraid to talk to me! I don't bite – promise :)**


	16. Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note: We're back! Thank you for the views and response to last chapter. I promise that things are on an upswing, if the past couple have sort of brought you down. This one was fun to write, so I hope it's fun to read!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Things changed after that first night out on the steps.

XXXXX

"You ready for this, kid?"

Pony shrugged. "Guess I have to be."

The car felt empty with just the three of us. Johnny was the only other one still going to school, and it isn't like he was a real talkative guy or anything, but it still felt wrong. I knew for a fact Steve was still having a rough go of it (even if he wouldn't admit to it), so I could only imagine how Ponyboy was feeling. "I can take you back home, ya know, if you ain't ready. I'm sure Darry'll get it."

Pony shook his head. "I've already been gone for a long time. If I don't come back now, I'll never be able to catch up."

"We could always get your homework for ya," Steve offered, kinder than usual. "If you want."

" _No_ ," Pony said a bit more forcefully. "I gotta do this. Let's go."

I'd parked us a bit of a ways from the school, like usual, and I was kinda worried the kid was gonna freak out and bolt (he's a fast one – Steve and I would have to drive to catch up with his skinny chicken legs), but the kid kept his head down and walked right up those steps ( _don't be thinkin' about Stevens at a time like this; don't be thinkin' about how the two of you sit there together and how she gets so close you can smell her shampoo and your knees touch)_. Yeah, he got looks. I guess we all did. Steve stopped him in the hallway before we let him on his way.

"Do you have anything on you?" He asked.

Pony shook his head.

"Nothin'? No blade?"

He shook his head again.

"Good," Steve sighed, and I think that's the first time any of us were really glad for something like that. I thought briefly of my blade, the one I'd leant Dally, and sighed. Still had to replace that one.

"Listen, kid," Steve began sternly, "if anybody tries to start any shit with you, I know you know how to defend yourself, but don't…don't bother with the physical stuff unless they try it with you okay? Just…tell the teach, or somethin'."

"You got anybody you can stick with when we ain't around?" I asked, all three of us knowing full well that there was no way Steve and I could watch that kid all day. Pony seemed to think about it and bobbed his head.

"Mr. Syme's okay," he said. "He's my English teacher. And the girl I sit with in art, she's nice to me. She's…she's kinda one of them, so she could tell 'em off."

Steve seemed to doubt this, but he let it slide. But I couldn't. Because I had to know something. "This girl you sit next to – she would really tell 'em off if they tried to start somethin' with you?"

Pony's voice was finally sure when he looked me in the eye and said, "She really would, Two-Bit. She's one'a the good ones."

I sighed. "Good. Good. Glad to hear that, kid."

I really was. In more ways than one.

XXXXX

I came up with this funny little idea to trick Bee into going on a date with me. I was pretty impressed with myself, if I do say so, for cooking up this beauty. One night, we're sitting out on the football field of all places – or, really, I'm sitting there, and she's standing right in front of me, talking really excited and pacing back and forth. I had a lit cigarette in my mouth, and the smoke dangled between us in the cold air. There wasn't a soul around. I'd told my buddies I was takin' Sadie to some church thing. Bee had told her father she had a date with Jerry Thompson. But we were here instead. And I was having a pretty good time. Bee was smiling, and she was making me laugh, and it had been a while since I'd felt okay enough to _really_ do that.

"Okay, so, you know the scarecrow from the _Wizard of Oz?"_

"In the movie?"

"Yes! Him."

"What about him?"

"Well, when I lived in New York, my father liked to take me out and…I dunno, expose me to all the cultural stuff. So I've been to a lot of plays. Last year was _Man of La Mancha,_ the year before was _Hello, Dolly._ I dunno, maybe that's why I like plays so much, why I'm doing the one _here_ -"

"What about the scarecrow?" I cut in, steering her back on course. She laughed.

"Right. So, about four years ago, we went to this play called _All American._ The guy who played the scarecrow in the _Wizard of Oz,_ he was the lead role, yeah? And the play was alright, but there's this _one_ song in it that I just _love,_ I think _every_ one really loves it. Have you heard the song 'Once Upon a Time'?"

She was breathless. I was amused. I scratched one of my sideburns and smiled at her around my cigarette. "Can't say I have," I said outta the side of my mouth. Bee deflated.

"You haven't?"

I shook my head. " _Musical theater_ ain't exactly my beat, honey."

Bee's shoulders slumped and she fell down next to me, defeated. So much for common interests. She looked real pretty just then, even though her coat hid most of her figure. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and the tips of her ears. I think mine were, too, but I knew it wasn't just the cold – I was blushing, I think, which is an embarrassing thing to admit to. I wanted to hit myself, or maybe have Darry or Steve do it for me. I was acting like a fool. Why do fools fall in love? – There's a song I know!

"Right," she said definitively. "Right, right."

I shrugged. "Maybe if you did a private performance of it right now for me, maybe I'd recognize it." I elbowed her side and she huffed a laugh.

"I don't think so! Nuh-uh." She turned to face me. "I miss being able to do that. Go to plays all the time, I mean. I didn't think I would. Didn't have _time_ to think I would. The move…it all happened so _quickly_."

"Why did you move?" I'd never known the answer. She'd never told me, and I'd never asked until now.

"My father's a professor. History. He's written a few books, and beside the inheritance he got from my grandfather, that's how we came across money. They're real scholastic, so it's not like you'd want to read them, or your little friend."

"Ponyboy?"

"Him, yeah. Anyway, he'd been teaching at New York University for a while, and he wasn't department chair just yet, but he was really well-respected. So, he applied for tenure. But, for whatever reason, they denied his application. I have no clue why, and when I ask…he won't tell me. Which is worrying enough." Bee sighed. She couldn't quite look me in the eye anymore, which made me worry she would start crying. "He quit after that. He looked for work out east for a while, but I guess he decided to just cut ties _completely_ because after he got the offer at Oklahoma, he dropped everything. Came into my room one day, told me that he'd gotten a new job. I was happy for him at first, but when he told me we'd be moving out _here…"_

"Not so great, huh?" I asked quietly. I was glad she was here. She was keeping me just this side of sane. But I could see why she wouldn't want to be here, in all our mess. And I didn't exactly care, or like the guy, but the soc Johnny killed was one of her friends, I guess. And she hadn't seemed so hurt, but we both knew now what that was like. For someone you know to die. Or – now she knew, too.

"Yeah," she breathed. "It's really not. Here…will never be like it was there. Home isn't the same anymore. He's always been busy, but we've always been able to spend time together. Now, all he cares about is work. I just…I _thought-"_

"Your old man cares about you," I said, nipping the waterworks in the bud, even though I really did feel sorry for her. Just…chicks crying, man. "He does. Ya dig?"

"I _know-"_

"C'mon, now. I mean it! I'm sure he's as crazy about you as I am!" I shot her my most dazzling smile.

"That's not exactly reassuring, Two-Bit," she said, but she was smiling a little now, so I considered my job done. Now – down to business.

"Ain't the winter formal coming up next month?"

"Yeah. Why do you care?"

I had to make sure to play this real cool. So I just shrugged and flicked my cigarette butt out into the dead, frozen grass. "Well, just figgered that since I got me an inside man – that's you – I'd get your insight on somethin'."

"What's that?"

"Well, see, me and a few buddies sorta have this bet going on who's gonna get nominated for Snow Queen."

Bee shot me a funny look. "Really? Even me and my friends aren't really talking about that. Don't you and your friends have anything better to talk about?"

"Eh, not really. Girls, girls, girls. You know how it is."

"Sure," she giggled. _Giggled._ She was so…she was such….such a _girl_. Kathy never _giggled_. It was kinda cute, though. "So who're you thinking?"

This was another tricky bit. Couldn't give away too much too early. Had to throw her off a little. "You know your friend Penny?"

Bee studied me for a second – _Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he's_ _ **nuts –**_ and then started to emphatically shake her head. " _Penny?_ " She repeated. "No _way._ "

"Well how come?"

She sputtered. "Because! Because…she's not that sort of girl!"

I shrugged. "So?"

" _So,_ " she repeated, and her shoulders slumped. "She's just not that sort of girl, that's all."

I shook my head and laughed at her, putting on the act that I thought she was naïve. "I bet you she will."

"She _won't_ ," she insisted. "She has no chance."

"I'm telling ya, she's gonna get nominated! But, do ya know who I _really_ think is gonna get nominated?" I sang, and Bee rolled her eyes to the dark, starry sky.

" _Who_?" she asked.

I grinned, got close enough that we were practically cheek-to-cheek, and tapped the tip of her nose. " _You._ "

Bee looked askance. "I doubt that, too, Two-Bit. No one would vote for me. Come _on!_ "

"Well, I'm willing to bet on it."

I really was. That was all part of the plan. Bee just stared at me. But it was _true_ – I'd bet a whole lot that she'd win. Not just that she'd get nominated, that she'd _win_. I may be a bit biased because I happen to believe she's, frankly, a lovely female specimen. And that ain't just me. That ain't just…ugh, _Jerry Thompson._ A lot of people thought she was a real pretty gal – I knew I wasn't alone in that. And ain't that all this is? Just confirming for everybody who the prettiest people in school are? It's stupid. Reminds me that I'm _this close_ to dropping out.

"Oh yeah?" she asked. I nodded. "What're you willing to bet?"

Here's where my brilliant plan came into play. I'd been waiting for her to take the bait. But I drew it out, pretending to think real hard about what it was I wanted. I knew what I wanted. And I knew, with enough elbow grease and some good ol'-fashioned word of mouth, I would get it. I just had to offer her something she at least _thought_ she would want. "Alright, Miz Bee. If you don't get nominated...I will never drag you out here again, and I'll leave you alone for the rest of the year."

It was a lot for me to bet. I wouldn't give this for the whole world. Besides having Johnny and Dallas back, being here with her was…it was real nice. But I knew that she was gonna lose.

"And if you win?" she asked quietly. This was it.

"If I win," I drawled. "You have to go on a date with me."

And she laughed at me, like I figgered she would. She does it often enough, anyways. But she was really howling, like this – _this!_ – was the funniest thing I'd ever said. "You're _kidding!_ " I shook my head.

"Nope. Not kidding at all." I wagged a finger at her, pretending to be serious. "Miz Bee, I ain't one to kid. I'm serious, now."

"Fine, then," she agreed, still coming off all the laughing. "It's a deal, Mathews"

She grinned at me, I grinned back, and we shook on it.

"Good deal, Miz Bee."

I couldn't wait to see how this turned out.

XXXXX

I had a lot of work to do.

"Evie, you're a pretty good gossip, ain't ya?"

Evie rolled her eyes. " _Sure_ , Two-Bit. What d'ya need spreadin'?"

I steepled my fingers and thought about how to put this delicately, without her getting too suspicious – something I probably should have done beforehand. It was a fine line – I needed her help, but I didn't want her to know the real reason _why_. So that made for some pretty quick thinking on my part, but hey, I'm pretty good at pulling this sort of shit out of my ass. "You know 'bout the winter dance comin' up?"

She nodded. "'Course."

"Well, it's like this – I kinda have this _bet_ going with somebody, and the bet is that he thinks that Bridget Stevens ain't gonna get nominated for this snow queen thing, but _I_ do. And I have a lot riding on this, so I need you to help spread the word."

Evie raised a thin eyebrow. "Oh?"

I nodded. "That's it. Simple enough for you, right?"

Evie kinda smiled. "Well – yeah. I'm sure I could get enough buzz going about it, and she's clueless enough that she probably wouldn't notice." I keep forgetting that she and Bee have a class together. I keep forgetting about how they didn't exactly _like_ each other. "But I don't exactly see why you care."

I shrugged. Steve and Soda were making their way back over to our booth, a Coke in each of their hands. It was just Steve these days who had a girl, who had Evie. A lot had changed. "Like I said – me and this guy have a bet. And it's fun to bet on the new girl! You ladies know how it is."

"Well, you're gonna have to help me."

"Not a problem. I can run my mouth, too."

She shook her head again. "Just seems cruel," Evie drawled, accepting a Coke from Steve. Soda slid one my way.

"What's cruel?" Soda asked.

"Two-Bit here" – Evie pointed at me – "is betting on snow queen nominations, of all things, and he's betting on poor Bee Stevens to get nominated."

"Didn't think you liked her," Steve grumbled, "let alone _pitied_ her for havin' to put up with this guy. Not enough to call her _poor Bee Stevens._ "

Evie shrugged. "That's not the point. It's a stupid thing for him and…whoever the hell this other guy is to bet on. You takin' me to the winter formal, Stevie?" She asked, changing the subject, which I was grateful for. Couldn't have the guys asking too many questions.

Steve rolled his eyes. It wasn't exactly a secret that he wasn't a huge fan of school functions, let alone a school dance. Or the nickname 'Stevie.' Or anything, really. Steve can be a real wet blanket sometimes. Guess Miss Evelyn balances all that out.

"Don't really wanna go," he mumbled. "Why do you like goin' to those damn things so much anyways?"

"I like gettin' dressed up and you treatin' me like you're a gentleman, that's why. So, are you taking me or not?" Steve rolled his eyes, but relented. "You goin', Two-Bit?" Evie asked, watching me closely. I just smirked at her. Steve and Sodapop shot looks between us.

"Naw. Gal I would've asked already has a date."

Evie's eyes widened, and I think she knew.

XXXXX

"Alright, I talked to Jenny Peterson last period, and she said that she heard from Louise McMillan who heard from Eleanor Johnston that she overheard Susie Prescott saying to Mary Roberts that _she_ overheard Missy Redar talking to _Vickie Harper,_ and they seem to have heard that Miz Bee Stevens is _in fact_ nominated for snow queen."

"…thanks, Evie."

XXXXX

Sometimes, I really like being right.

XXXXX

"'Ey! Bee Stevens!"

Bee, Vickie, and Missy stopped walking towards their car and stared at me. There was whispering, a raised eyebrow from Vickie, a scowl and wagged finger from Bee, and Missy watchin' it all like it was a tennis match, but eventually, Bee stomped over to me, hands crossed over her chest. "What is it, Two-Bit?"

"So? When should I pick you up?"

She rolled her eyes. She definitely knew what I was talking about. "You're really serious, aren't you? How do you even _know?"_

"Kid, let's just say that with all the _campaignin'_ I did, there was no way you _wouldn't_ get nominated. So, _when can I pick you up?"_

"What do you mean, you _campaigned_ for me?"

I sighed. "It means exactly what ya think. I went around tellin' people to nominate you. Now really, I gotta know when I can pick you up!"

She didn't look happy about it, but she said, "You can pick me up at six...day after tomorrow."

"Fair enough. I'll see ya then."

I winked at her, and I think she just about popped me.

XXXXX

"Do we really gotta do this _now_ , Pony? I sorta have a date tonight."

Pony tried to raise one of his eyebrows. I bit my lip to keep from laughing at the lame attempt. I think it would've been a bit insensitive, considering the current topic of discussion. "You have a date?"

"Well, yeah. It's a Saturday night, kid. And I'm a red-blooded American male. Gotta get it while I can."

Pony blushed. Seems it was still a bit too early to talk about girls with him. Someday. "Oh. Well, I just want to make sure I have all the facts straight, okay? In case anybody asks. And they're _gonna_ ask, at the trial."

"You mean, nobody's asked you yet?"

He shook his head. "Maybe they were just being nice." Pony looked down at the kitchen table. "First time for everything, I guess."

He didn't look back up for a moment. I watched him, with his sad eyes and unsure way of holding himself. He'd changed. I guess we all had. "Maybe things are changing," I said. "Maybe they'll keep bein' good to you. They might not ask at all."

"Maybe," he sighed. Pony looked back up at me. "Alright. So…we took those girls home. From the drive-in. Cherry and Marcia."

"Right."

"And…then, after Darry…after I ran off…Johnny and I got jumped. By their boyfriends."

"That's right."

"And then I killed that soc – Bob Sheldon."

I went stiff. Darry had told me that this had been happening, that Pony couldn't get the story straight. It was a bit strange, him wanting to run through his whole testimony with me, but I'd done it with him anyways. But that was wrong – Pony _hadn't_ killed Bob. Johnny had. Kid still couldn't get that straight in his head. But Darry had told me not to correct him on it, or he'd get upset.

"Right, Two-Bit?" Pony pushed. I stuttered and looked at my wrist, devoid of any sort of watch.

"Aw, would you look at that – time for me to go. Kid, you're gonna be fine. You're a good kid. Nobody's gonna bother you."

Pony looked unsure – actually, if you asked me, he looked like he was about to burst into tears – but he just nodded his head. "Who's your date with?" Pony asked.

"Just some gal I met the other day. You wouldn't know her."

XXXXX

"You're late."

I grimaced as I made my way up her front walk. Bee was sitting on her front stoop with her arms crossed over her chest, and she didn't look happy. "Yeah, I know. But, just...stuff happened." I didn't want to tell her about Ponyboy, about how hard all of this was on him. How she needed to be extra good to him. "But there was no way in _hell_ I was gonna completely bail on you. This is prolly gonna be awful, ain't it?"

Bee rolled her eyes. "Can we leave now?"

"Yeah, we can get goin'." I offered my hand, but she shook her head. So much for that. "So. What should we do?"

"You mean, you don't have something in mind?"

I laughed, right-out. "Honey. _Please_ , don't give me so much credit. I'm not you're boyfriend - don't think I put a whole lotta thought into this."

Which was BS. I'd put a _lot_ of thought into this. How it would happen, how I would get it to happen under the guise of a lost bet. I just hadn't figured out what I wanted to do with her because to tell the truth, I wasn't really sure what she _liked_. I mean, she'd got the lead in the school play, though, so that was something.

"We could see a movie," she suggested once we got in the truck. "Right?"

I shrugged. "Sounds good to me. Whaddyah wanna see?"

(Alright, I need you to listen up here – this is another instance of Bee gettin' the story wrong. Ya know, I don't know if she's really _lying_ , or if she just doesn't remember too good, because we did _not_ see that Virginia Wolfe movie that night. Nuh-uh. And we didn't talk about that Simon and Garfunkel song. I'm telling you the truth here. Then again, she'll say the same thing.)

"Um. You'll think it's stupid."

"Try me."

"Uh. Well, they're playing _Meet Me in St. Louis_ , because of the holidays coming up. So…" She shrugged. "We could see that. It's kinda fun. Good score."

I'm _pretty_ sure the only song I know from that movie is the Christmas one, but Christmas was just around the corner, I suppose, so that worked for me. I was kinda up for anything. I'm a kinda-up-for-anything sort of guy. "Yeah, that works. Let's do that."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"So."

"So."

"I, uh, heard you're a pretty good dancer."

"Oh? Who told you that?"

"Sodapop Curtis. He saw you with your boyfriend at that dance hall. I guess you like it? All this…music stuff?"

"Yeah. I do like it."

"That's good," I said. "Most of the girls' talents that I know just include French kissin' and lipstick application, so it's nice to have a little variety."

Bridget just rolled her eyes. " _Funny_ ," she drawled, like it really wasn't (it was).

"I mean that! You told me you got the lead in that play. That's somethin'. And hell, I bet you're real good at it, too. Sodapop Curtis is a tougher critic than most people would suspect."

"Good," she repeated, voice distant and dreamy. I raised an eyebrow. I think I laughed a little.

"Well, I was expecting something more along the lines of a 'thank you' but I guess that'll work too. Now,"-I clapped my hands together-"let's go see this movie!"

I pulled in front of the theater and got Bee's door for her, and she gave me a funny smile as she stepped out. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"No problem. I can be a real gentleman when I wanna be, ya know."

She laughed. "I know. I had your jacket in my closet for nearly a week."

The thought of that was absolutely dizzying. I had to push thoughts of her closet and bedroom out of my dirty mind so I could get tickets. The ticket girl was a gal named Audrey. I took her on one date my sophomore year because she went to Mom's (our?) church because, well, my mother sometimes likes to play matchmaker. But that was all. I just see her around town now and then. She lets me tease her, and I let her tease me, but it's all copasetic. So I gave her my most dazzling smile as I approached the ticket booth, and she returned it with a wry one.

"Well, good evenin', miss!"

"Yeah, hi, Mathews. What're you doing here? You know we don't show our adult features until well after this time of night."

I rolled my eyes. "Well Audrey, I ain't here for my regular programmin' tonight - I've got myself a _date_."

Audrey peered around me and sized up Bridget. I know she looked out of place. I know. She was wearing a dress of a decent length when every other gal around her had her skirt riding up her ass. Her feet were flat on the ground when every other girl was four inches taller than she usually is. I'm not saying either way is better than the other – they just _are._ She didn't look like she was supposed to be here. The way her eyes were bugged out _really_ gave that away. "She sure don't look like that dye job you usually hang around with. You two on a bi-week or something?"

" _Au_ drey, my relationship with Kathy is none of your damn business. Now! I want two tickets to _Meet Me in St. Louis."_

" _Meet Me in St. Louis_?" She repeated. "You know there's singin' and dancin' in that one, right?"

"Hey – I didn't pick the flick. Now, here's what happens – I give you the money, and then you give me the tickets. It's economics, Audrey. I'm exchanging money for a service."

She took my money and shook her head. "God bless that poor girl. Speakin' of which, you ever gonna come back to church?"

"Nup. See ya later, Audrey."

She shook her head again, and stopped Bee before she could catch up to me. When she did, I raised an eyebrow as if to ask what the deal was, but she ignored it. "So, who's the dye-job?" she asked instead.

"She means Kathy. The gal I go 'round with." Well – used to go 'round with. So I _sorta_ amended that. "But I ain't exactly seein her right now."

"Why not?"

"I dunno. Just how we work."

"How do you know the ticket girl?" She asked when we sat down, too full of too many questions. I pulled a Bridget and rolled my eyes.

"Is it just too much for you to think that I know people? She's just a girl, Bee. Ain't like she's my best friend." I grinned at her and nudged her shoulder. "Why? Ya _jealous?"_ I snickered, and Bee turned a bright, beet red.

"I'm not _jealous_ ," she insisted. "Just _curious_. Or is it just too much for you to think that I could ask questions?"

I held up my hands – surrender. "No need to get so defensive. Ain't gotta be so serious all the time."

The lights dimmed, but we kept talking to each other. And it felt real natural. It was one of those nights where being together was easy. And, ya know, it kinda felt like a real date, even if we weren't s'posed to be thinkin' of it in that way.

"Have you seen this before?" She whispered to me before the movie started. I shook my head.

"Like I've said – musicals ain't really my beat. But, hey – ladies' choice. Here's to hoping you have good taste."

I could imagine her rolling her eyes in the dark theater. "It's _Judy Garland_. Of course it's a good one."

"Good _lookin',_ maybe – "

" _Could you two shut up?"_

We both whirled around and saw a pockmarked guy scowling at us. Bee grinned a full-tooth smile at him. "Sorry. Won't happen again," she promised, voice sweet. Probably how she wished I'd responded to her complaints about me at the beginning of the year. The guy softened towards her, but scowled at me one more time before we turned back around.

"Nice work," I whispered. Bee snorted and tossed a piece of popcorn in my face.

"Shut up. The movie's starting."

We managed to stay quiet the rest of the movie, and that seemed to carry over to the car ride home, unfortunately. She didn't say anything, and I didn't quite know what to say, so I smoked. She stared out her window while I hung my arm out of mine. It was a dark winter night, and she seemed to be trying to look up at the sky.

"Bridget."

"Yes?" she replied softly.

"There something bothering you?"

Bee looked away from the sky and turned to look at me. "No, not at all. Why?"

I shrugged. Took another drag off my cigarette. "I dunno. But you seem...off. Call me crazy, but I don't think I just spent an evening with the girl that tells me off in history class, or the girl that didn't want my jacket. Am I right?"

She frowned. "Maybe you didn't. Why should you care?"

I sighed. Looked between her and the road a lot before saying anything again. "Bridget," I continued, "I care because honestly? I don't hate ya as much as I might let on. In _fact_ , I don't hate you at all. Do you annoy the hell out of me? Of course! But do I _hate_ you? Not so much. I mean, I had a good time tonight, and here I was thinkin' it was gonna be terrible. And it wasn't."

Bee's mouth twisted into a smile. "Maybe we should bet with each other more often," she joked. And didn't I _love_ hearin' that.

"Maybe we should," I laughed, and the tension broke in the cab, and I think that's what made her feel comfortable enough to keep talking to me.

"I had a fight with my boyfriend," she blurted out. "I had a fight with Jerry. That's what's bothering me."

I wondered if that's all that should be bothering her (as much as I liked to hear that) when anybody who saw us tonight could've said the wrong thing and gotten her in big trouble with Thompson. But, maybe, I wouldn't mind that as much as I think I would. So I shot her a funny look.

"That all?" I asked. "Shoot, honey, that ain't unusual," I told her, thinking of how much Kathy and I used to fight. "What, you ain't ever fight with anybody before?"

"No. Should I have?"

"I dunno. Just thought you would've at some point, like with your parents or friends or something."

"No. Never." I pulled up beside her house. "Not everyone is as quick to fight as _you_ , ya know."

I shrugged. "Maybe. And not everyone is as passive-aggressive as _you_. Know what I'm sayin'?"

"I know. So what if they aren't?"

"Exactly! So you go about your ways, and I'll go about mine." I grinned at her. "You have a good night now, Miz Bee. I hope to see you again real soon."

She climbed out and again, I watched to make sure she got in.

I saw her wave as I drove off.

XXXXX

I can't quite explain it. I can't really tell you the exact moment she started looking at me different, or what was going through her head that caused the change. What I _can_ tell you is that it all happened in that time Johnny and Dallas and Bob Sheldon died. And I know what you're thinking – this wasn't pity. Look – I can read people pretty well. I would _know_ if what she was doling out was pity. And it wasn't.

I know that I couldn't stop whistling the score from that movie for a week. I know that all the guys besides Darry started to notice that something was up with me, but that I couldn't tell them what. I don't know why I didn't. It isn't every day that a guy like me has a chance to end up with a girl like her. And maybe that's part of the problem – maybe things were _supposed_ to get better after we won the rumble, but I don't know if they got better or if things just went back to the way to were. If maybe the boundaries were even more pronounced now than they were before.

I need to stop waxin' poetic. For now, let's just say that all of this is Vickie Harper's fault and leave it at that.

XXXXX

 **AN: Sort of a doozy of a chapter, but I think that's OK. Hope you enjoyed – if you did, let me know! PM, review (** ** _yes_** **), fave, follow…whatever floats your boat. So don't be shy! I love hearing all of your thoughts.**


	17. Everybody Gets a Second Chance

**Author's Note: Chapter seventeen! A lot of these later chapters are mostly complete, so we're gonna start getting updates every few days now instead of once a week. Yay!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I said all of this was Vickie Harper's fault, but that's not entirely true. Everything going on between Bee and me right now is Harper's fault – that's pretty much true. But it's not her fault that a mobster showed up on my doorstep. No, that was all David Mathews' fault.

XXXXX

If we're being totally honest, I don't have a great concept of time. I mean, I could tell you what day of the week it is, and the year is easy. And the month. It's all those hours and seconds that I get mixed up on. Dawn to dusk hours. Speaking as someone who stumbles on home at odd hours, usually somewhat inebriated, I have to admit – time alludes me. If I had come home sloshed the night before and was a total wreck the next day, I would probably believe you if you told me at nine in the morning that it was actually nine at _night_ , and probably crawl back into bed.

But where am I going with this, right?

Well, I was sober when Aldo Baronchelli showed up, and I know it was pretty indecent of him to show up at nine in the evening two days past Christmas. And I didn't exactly appreciate being the one who had to greet him.

"Can I help you?" I asked, already suspicious of this slick guy in the dark trench and fedora.

"Are you David Mathews?" He asked, and I instantly noted the thick Italian accent. Which was the second red flag. I leaned against the door jamb, letting cold air into the house.

"No," I answered. "But I'm his son. What do you want with him?"

"Is he home?"

I shook my head. "Hasn't been for nine years."

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise. "He said this was his permanent address. That this is where we'd find him."

"Guess he lied. It happens," I shrugged, smirking. "Who are you, anyways?"

"Aldo Baronchelli," he said without offering his hand.

"Lei parla italiano?" I asked, busting out a skill I was decidedly rusty at. Aldo's surprise furthered.

"Naturalmente. Tuo padre non è italiano. Come fai a sapere la lingua?" ( _"Of course. Your father is not Italian. How do you know the language?")_

"Mia madre. Ora – perché sei davvero qui?" ( _"My mother. Now – why are you really here?")_

"Diciamo solo che tuo padre ci deve una notevole quantità di denaro. E sembra che egli ha ingannato noi per la sua sorte – promuovere i suoi guai." ( _"Let's just say that your father owes us a substantial amount of money. And it seems that he has misled us to his whereabouts – furthering his trouble.")_

That _us_ was a bit unsettling to hear. I frowned. "Suoni sulla destra. Mio padre è sempre stato un uomo di scommesse." (" _Sounds about right. My father's always been a betting man.")_

Baronchelli nodded. "Che sarebbe corretto. Ascolta, se lo vedete, fammelo sapere. Sarò in città." ( _"That would be correct. Listen – if you see him, you let me know. I'll be in town.")_

I laughed. "Che è piuttosto vago. Dove in città?" ( _"That's pretty vague. Where in town?")_

"That's for you to find out," Baronchelli said, switching back to English. "But I'll be around. Say – why the switch, huh?" He asked, referring to why we were speaking in his mother tongue.

"Mia madre e mia sorella non è necessario sapere su questo. Non ancora. Ora – andare." _("My mother and sister don't need to know about this. Not yet. Now – go.")_

He left, but he didn't really _leave_.

Now I had to tell my mother.

XXXXX

"Why do you want to know what I know about the _mob?_ "

It was getting harder and harder to lie to her. "Because a mobster showed up on my porch, that's why. All the way from New York."

Bee looked surprised. "And you're assuming that because I'm _from_ New York I should have some deep connection to the mafia and their inner-workings, who exactly they have vendettas against?"

I sighed. " _No_ ," I said testily, "it's just that I thought you _might_ know a bit more about them than I do, which you clearly _don't_. I need to figure out how to deal with this."

"Well, I know we're friends and all, but I don't think I could really afford getting caught up in any mob stuff, especially after what happened this fall."

I sat down on the school's back steps and smeared my hands down my face. "Yeah, kid, I know. Lord _knows_ , I know. Just…forget I said anything, okay?"

Bridget sat down beside me. She was wearing a new dress – one of her Christmas gifts from her father. A deep green, like her eyes. Ya know, it's rare to find a girl who looks good in every color, but I happen to think she does. "Why do _you_ have to deal with it?" She asked. "Why are you the one?"

I shrugged. "He's here cuz of my family. You gotta clean up your messes."

"I get that," Bee said slowly, "but I still don't see why it's you that has to deal with him."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Is somebody _worried_ about me?"

Bee snorted. "Come off it, Two-Bit." I just kept staring at her with a smile on my face. She shook her head. "Alright, _fine_. I'm a bit worried. I don't like it when bad things happen to my friends."

"I'll be careful," I promised. "Speakin' of friends – have you figured out any more on this whole Vickie-and-Dallas thing?"

Bee shook her head quickly. "Not a thing." She sighed. "Some days, I wonder if she's really my friend. Or, maybe not that, but that maybe she's not exactly the best person all the time."

See what I mean about this girl being a bit clueless sometimes? Of _course_ Vickie's not that great a person. _Duh_. "Oh, really? How come?"

Bridget leaned forward and hugged her knees to her chest. "She just says some awfully mean things sometimes. I mean…I get that things are rough down here. I do. But I think she likes it that way. I think she likes being on top."

"Don't you?" I asked softly. "I mean, lookit you. I know you said that you weren't exactly Miss Popular at your old schools, but here…you'd think it was Grace Kelly came to this school, not just – "

"Li'l' ol' Bridget Stevens," she sighed. "I know. I guess you're right. It does feel good. To not get made fun of all the time and all that stuff. I sometimes feel like a totally different person."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Maybe. I mean, do _you_ ever wish you were a different person?"

I thought about it. I mean, sure. Things weren't always peachy-keen. My father had bailed on us, I had to give up the one thing I loved doing most, we'd never had a lot of money, two of my friends had died, and me and my buddies got treated like scum. Then again, I had my buddies – and they were the best friends a guy could ask for. I still had Mom and Sadie. And I had Bridget here, no matter what became of us. I guess it's all about your perspective.

"Ya know, I don't think I do."

"Really? I mean, not even with the way, uh, _we_ treat you?"

I nodded. "Really."

"You never wish you lived in a better part of town?"

I laughed. "Naw. Peach, what can I say? They're my kind. It's who I am."

She looked at me, real sad. "Two-Bit," she breathed, "you gotta stop saying stuff like that. _They_ don't make you who you are, ya know? You decided all for yourself. And you don't have to be who you are forever."

Bee shrugged, like that was all there was to it.

"I don't know if I exactly have that luxury," I explained. "Startin' over is harder than you think."

She snorted. "Really? I just had my entire life uprooted. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the _queen_ of starting over."

I nudged her shoulder with mine. "And of somethin' else, too."

Bee shook her head at me. "Would you _shut up_ about this snow queen thing?"

"Nup! I had complete faith in you, and it happened. That's a miracle right there."

"It wasn't a matter of _faith_ , Two-Bit. It was a matter of choice, and your big mouth."

I laughed. She makes me do that sometimes. Sometimes, being with her is real hard. Other times, it's _real_ easy. "Tell me somethin', Bridget."

"Shoot."

"Do you believe in God?"

The look on her face was priceless. "God? Like, capital-G _God?"_ I nodded. "Well…I don't know. Why? Should I?"

I shook my head. "I mean, I don't. I just thought maybe you might. You seem like you might be the godly type."

She raised an eyebrow. It was funny to watch Ponyboy struggle to do that, but she could do it perfectly. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're able to take a few things on faith. Ya know? Some things are a matter of faith, and some things are a matter of chance. It's what we were just talkin' about. It was pure coincidence that we turned out the way we are, that we got stuck with the hands we were dealt. But you have the luxury of believin' that you can go somewhere completely different and become a whole new person. Anywhere I go, people'll know my poor mother raised a hood rat like it's written on my face. And I don't _believe_ that – I _know_ that."

"Seriously, Two-Bit. Quit _saying_ things like that! You're a good guy –"

"Am I?" I asked, playing devil's advocate with her. "You sure? Then you must've changed your mind in the past few months because I know for a fact that that hasn't always been your opinion of me."

Bee was starting to get frustrated with me. Her face had flushed red and her fists were clenched at her side. "Why would you bring that up? That's in the _past_ – "

"The past follows you everywhere you go, honey." I smirked, though it was probably more sarcastic than anything. "And I guess we've come full circle, because it's like I said – people will be able to read me _easy_ no matter where I do or what I do. And I think it's starting to bite me in the ass now, even if this time it ain't my fault."

"You mean this mob business?" I nodded, and she sighed. "You'll figure it out," she said sourly.

"I sure hope so. Can't risk him breakin' my legs. Then I wouldn't be able to come out here and see ya like I like to do."

You can say a lot without saying a word. We just glanced at each other and that said everything that either of us needed to say. But she had to go and say something anyways. "Sometimes, Two-Bit, you really surprise me. You really do."

I smirked. "Yeah, I'm full of 'em."

"More like full of _it_. But really, you really do surprise me sometimes. You're a lot different than I thought you were when I met you."

"Well, you're the one made me read that play. I think it gave me all sorts of ideas."

"You mean _Our Town?_ " Bee laughed. "You _read_ it? Really?"

I nodded. "'Course I did! You said you liked it, so I decided to give it a shot. Remember?"

"Oh, I remember that you _said_ you would. I just figured you were being facetious and wouldn't actually _do_ it."

"Well, I did. So _there_." I decided to change the subject again. "Bee?"

Bee's eyes met mine. "Yeah?"

"You think maybe you might wanna hang out with me on New Year's? Ya know, as pals? We could tool around town, find a party. Or just hang out. Whatever you want to do is fine by me."

I realize that this kinda sounds like I was asking her on a date, more so than the last time, where I actually said she had to go on a date with me if she lost that bet. But she didn't call me out for it. She just sat beside me and considered the offer.

"Well," she sighed, "I think maybe I would like that. I just gotta weasel out of a few things, okay?" She gave me a stern look. "And don't be getting any _ideas_."

Unfortunately for her, I already had plenty of ideas. But I smiled instead and said, "I've got the purest of intentions, Miz Stevens. But we're _pals_ , ain't we? We could even consider it a second chance at a first impression – new year, new us, right? Clean slate. _Everybody_ gets a second chance, honey."

Maybe it was the idea of a second chance, or maybe it was something else, so she nodded her head mutely and turned away quickly because oddly enough, I think she was starting to cry.

XXXXX

 _"_ _Clang clang clang went the trolley, ding ding ding went the bells, zing zing zing went my heart strings, from the moment I saw him I fell…"_

"Two-Bit."

"Huh, Stevie?"

"Stop singin'."

XXXXX

"You must be the dumbest piece of shit alive," Steve spat at Pony, "just for hangin' around Curly Shepard. But you had to take it a step further and we have to find the two of you keying cars? Shit, kid. I oughta tell Darry."

Pony scowled at Steve. "Don't fuckin' tell Darry," he whispered bitterly, and I was a bit taken aback by him swearing like that. Steve and I were cruisin' around the Strip – Soda and Darry were workin' – and who do we spot but Ponyboy Curtis hangin' around with Curly Shepard, who I guess had been let outta reformatory early. I took a drag off my cigarette and flicked away the ashes. We'd run Curly off, so now we had to deal with him. I don't know if I'd usually mind – hell, I've done worse things than key a car – but this was _Pony_ we were talking about. He wasn't like the rest of us.

"I dunno, kid. You're already on sorta thin ice with the state. This sorta shit wouldn't look good if somebody had found out."

"You're one to talk, Two-Bit. How many times you been thrown in the drunk tank?"

That wasn't the first time I'd heard that, but shit, his tone was weird. I didn't feel like I was talking to Ponyboy Curtis. So I sure didn't _treat_ him like I was talking to Ponyboy Curtis. "Watch your goddamn mouth, kid. Darry's got no reason right now to take your word over mine, not the way you been actin' lately." I heard Steve mutter a 'damn straight.' Pony's eyes started to water.

"Oh, _sure_ ," he garbled. "You go tell your best pal Darry all about this. And why don't you tell Sodapop while you're at it, Steve?" The neon lights of the strip reflected in the tears now sliding down his cheeks and pooling in his eyes, his face glowing red. "And while y'all go off in your pairs, what am I s'posed to do, huh? _What am I s'posed to do?"_

XXXXX

"I have vodka."

Bee didn't look impressed with that fact. She was sorta dolled up, but her hair hung loose and was getting blown back by the wind, and even if she didn't look impressed, she _did_ look amused. And even if she didn't think she did, she looked beautiful to me. So it was a win. "Vodka. That's, uh…um. I don't exactly drink, Two-Bit."

I smirked. "Who said _you_ were gonna drink it? I didn't say I was sharin'."

"People usually ring in the new year with _champagne_ ," she said slowly, like I was stupid or somethin'. Bee took the bottle from me. "You weren't thinking we were _both_ gonna drink out of this, were you?"

"I already told you! I don't plan on sharing."

"Oh, c'mon, Two-Bit."

"Thought you didn't drink."

"I do when you refuse to share with me!"

I laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll share." I held out the bottle. "Interested?"

"Did you bring glasses?"

"One step ahead of ya, Honey Bee."

I poured each of us a glass and we sat down on the hatch. "Just the one," she insisted. "Well, for me, at least. Worst comes to worse, I'll just drive us home."

"Sounds good to me." I held mine up and raised an eyebrow. "Toast?"

She faltered. "To what?" Bee wondered.

"Whatever you'd like. To love, life, the inevitability of death – "

"Two-Bit!"

"Kidding, kidding. But whatever floats your boat, kid."

Bee thought for another moment, and then a smile curled her lips. She lifted her glass to mine. "Here's to 1967," she whispered.

I smiled. "And to hoping that it's a hell of a lot better than 1966."

She clinked her glass with mine, and I watched on in amusement as she drank, her face twisting up at the burn. I chuckled – she wasn't kidding when she said she didn't drink. I knocked my glass back like it was water.

" _Ugh_ ," she spat. "That shit's horrible. I don't know how you can stand it."

I shrugged. "It's an acquired taste. Here – I'll take it."

"And _I'll_ take your keys." I scowled. She cocked an eyebrow and smirked, like she was doing an impression of me. "Hey – it's a fair trade."

"You're a goody-two-shoes, is what this is. I ain't givin' 'em to you yet."

"Oh, alright. Ya know," she went on, "I didn't think I'd be spending my New Years in the bed of a truck, let alone with you."

" _Ouch_. But hey - you could've gone to any number of parties, and you chose this one. Was it a good choice? Definitely! Was it a surprising one? Of course."

She laughed quietly and surprised me by patting my knee. "So, I thought you'd want to be with your friends tonight. What changed your mind?" She asked.

I kinda didn't want to tell her about the whole mess with Pony and Curly. I didn't want to worry her about the kid, and Curly's just a fucking wreck, so…

"Dunno. Guess we all just had different plans tonight, and, well, Darry ain't exactly a _party person_ ," (not anymore) "so he was out for spending time with. So here we are!"

"Here we are," she repeated.

Remember all that talk a while back about existing? Just…existing? I think that's what we were doing just then, the two of us, while we were sitting in the bed of my truck in the middle of east Jesus nowhere. The middle of a dirt road, surrounded by fields. We'd driven out here after I'd snuck over and picked her up from some bash her father had thrown at her place. Bee was an impressive liar – she'd spun this whole story about going to some party with her friends to her old man, and he seems to be pretty gullible. Lucky me. So now we're sitting here, just existing together, and I'm thinking about things I've never bothered to think about before.

"Hey, Bee?"

"What?"

"You got any resolutions?"

I could see her turn to look at me in my periphery. "No," she said slowly. "I don't. Do you?"

I thought about Pony. I thought about Johnny and Dallas. About Tim and Curly. About the Aldo Baronchelli. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"What is it?"

I shrugged, trying to play off what I was about to say was no big deal. "I wanna start figuring stuff out," I answered vaguely. "Small scale. I ain't gonna start asking big questions, like about _God_ or something. That's something _I don't touch_." I sighed. "But I wanna figure things out for myself. Like why the hell Pony's acting all tough. Do you know why? Cuz I sure as shit don't."

"I don't know, Two-Bit," she whispered. "I feel bad saying this, but I can't say I exactly _noticed_. So I don't know."

"Well, that makes two of us." I grinned at her. She smiled back, but weakly. "What time is it?"

Bee checked her watch. "Eleven fifty-four." A smile crept across my face. I hadn't even _considered_ this when the night started, but now…"What? Why're you _smiling_ like that?"

"What're we s'posed to do once it's midnight?"

"What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes. I think I'm doing that more and more often now. "Don't be so _dense_. Ya know you're s'posed to kiss at midnight! It's tradition, Miz Bee! So I'm _askin'_ if we're gonna kiss each other."

"Well, I don't know. Maybe...well, it doesn't have to be a _real_ kiss."

Oh, well that was rich. "What's a _real_ kiss, Bridget? Define _real_ for me."

"It's just as _friends_."

"Just as _friends?_ That's a real laugh, Bridget."

"Friends kiss!" She said indignantly. "All the time."

"Oh, yeah? _All_ the time? So I'm guessin' you just go around kissing all your friends, then. Is that right?"

"No! I don't do _that_."

I shook my head. Poor girl was always getting herself mixed up. It got quiet again between us, the radio in my truck still playing. The song changed over to a Sam Cooke tune and I got yet another brilliant idea. Seems I'm full of 'em. I got out of the truck bed and held my hand out to her, palm up, like the gentleman I am. Bee looked at me funny. "Word on the street is that you're a pretty good dancer. So for the next...four minutes," I ballparked, "would you do me the honor?"

Bridget looked unsure. "Oh, I don't know…"

"Time's a-wastin', Miz Bee – it really is. 1966 won't be with us much longer, and this is your last chance to get me on your dance card this year. C'mon! You know you want to, peach."

Bee scowled at the name, but she hopped out of the truck and surprised me by wrapping my arms around my neck and allowing me to put mine around her waist. A little more intimate than what I was expecting – thought this Ginger Rogers-wannabe would be a little more formal with me – but it wasn't like I was gonna complain. She gave me a sleepy, doe-eyed smile and I just about melted, man. Had to sing along to the damn song to keep myself distracted. And that made her smile bigger.

"You're a _terrible_ dancer," she proclaimed. "Absolutely horrible."

"Yeah, yeah. Two left feet, I know. I've been told. Hey, how much longer?" I asked.

Bee checked her watch over my shoulder. "Fifty seconds."

We stopped and stared down at her wrist, watching the little second hand on her pretty, expensive little watch speed toward the New Year, as if it couldn't contain itself either.

"Miz Bee."

"Yeah."

"I wanna thank you for tonight."

"It's no problem."

"I really mean it, ya know."

"I know you do."

At twenty seconds to midnight, I realized I was gonna kiss Bridget Stevens, and that there was nothing I could do to stop me.

"I'm gonna do something when that hand reaches twelve."

"What's that?"

At midnight, I grabbed her shoulders and kissed her like my life depended on it, like I knew I'd never do any better, like I knew that _she_ knew that I loved her, or whatever, and let it be that. At least, in my head. What I told her when we separated and she was shell-shocked (and so was I) was:

" _Just as friends_."

Which was bullshit, but by the look on her face, she seemed to be buying it.

"Just as friends," she repeated, voice soft. "Right. _Right_."

On second thought, I don't think _just as friends_ was how she wanted it.

XXXXX

 **AN: Oh, man. I have been waiting to publish that moment from Two-Bit's point of view for AGES. Hope this all went over well! Let me know what you're thinking! Seeing your reviews/views makes my day!**


	18. The Once and Future King

**Author's Note: What's this? Two updates in a week? Must be a whole lot of pre-writing!**

 **I've gotten a couple of guest reviews, and since I can't PM you, I want to let you guys know that I'm extremely grateful for your feedback and enthusiasm for this story. Thank you!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

If you're in love with somebody, do you like their face first, or do you like what they're saying first? I don't know what came first for me, but all I know right now is that _shit, I'm in love with her._

"Nice night."

"It's really cold out, Two-Bit."

Right. Yeah, it was, but you could see the stars, and before I met Bridget, before she ever told me that she looked up at the night sky every chance she could since moving out from the city, I didn't much care for them. But now I do.

"So," I asked. "What's new with you?"

Bridget shrugged. "Not much. You?"

We were avoiding the obvious thing. I kinda bobbed my head up and down. "It's going, sugar. It's going good."

"Hmm. Yeah," she sighed. "Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Is this a date?"

Hell, was it? I don't know. I don't know much of anything. 'Cept that I'm in love with her. "Sure," I said instead. "If that's what you want it to be. I mean, I don't mind calling it a date."

She looked at me, eyes narrowed, like she was trying to see something that I was hiding. "You don't?"

"No. Heck, first time we came out to this parking lot that's what I thought it was. If that's okay with you," I added, slipped it in real quick. Bridget licked her bottom lip, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't the hottest thing I'd seen that week (well, there had been that skin mag. _Mmm_. Miss November).

"Do you have something on your mind, Two-Bit?"

Did I have something on my mind? You mean, besides taking her into the back of my truck and going at it until morning? Nah.

Well, yeah. I did.

"Because you look like you have something on your mind," she continued. "Or - I might be wrong."

No, she wasn't wrong. I wanted to tell her right there that the moonlight on her face made her look even prettier than Miss November, that she was the nicest person I'd ever met, that I'd been wrong about her all those months ago, that she'd been wrong about me, that this was the best date I'd ever been on because it was her so it wasn't even boring, even though we were just sitting there. I wanted to tell her I loved her so much that I woke up in the middle of the night after having dreamt horribly (embarrassingly) dirty things about her, and that's what I know and that's what was on my mind, and _I loved her._

"Well, wouldn't be the first time," I said instead.

Bee nudged my knee with hers. "I'd like to tell you something."

"Yeah? What is it?" Bridget twiddled her thumbs. She sure had a lot of little nervous ticks. "Is something wrong? Are you _okay?_ Hey, I can help you out if someone's bothering you. Okay? I'll take care of 'em – "

"It's not like that," she said quickly. "I'm not always in _danger_. It's…look, I don't know if you're gonna understand this, but I have to tell _some_ body about this. So listen up, okay?"

"I'm listenin', kid."

Bee sighed. "It has to do with Jerry."

Oh _, man_.

"What about him?" I asked, trying not to sound too…um, I suppose _disgusted_ might be the best word.

"Remember the fight I had with him?" I nodded. "He came over to dinner. And afterwards, he and I were doing the dishes in the kitchen. One of the plates dropped and I offered to clean it up, but he insisted that he should do it."

"O _kay_ …"

"And I thanked him. Right? And he said that that was the way it went in his house. That his father did all the dirty work. And it was a _little_ thing, I _know_ , but I don't know, it really _bugged_ me. Everything that it implied, ya know? I don't even know why he _said_ it. But I've met his parents. I know what their relationship is like. And I suppose they love each other, but I've grown up in a very different household than his. I…I don't just want to sit by. Ya know what I mean?"

I nodded. "I know what you mean," I said quietly. "If it means anything, personally, I don't think anybody could ever force you to just sit on the sidelines. You ain't like that."

Bee smiled unsurely. "Maybe. I don't know. I hope I'm not some…I hope I'm not someone who people think they can push around."

"I don't think you are," I assured her. "Hell, I've tried. Stubborn as a mule."

She grimaced. "Oh. Well, that's not a very good thing, either."

I had to laugh. "Well, you're either one or the other, ain't ya? You either let yourself get pushed around, or you plant yourself and don't ever budge. Pretty sure you're the latter."

"Pretty sure you are, too," she grumbled. "But that's just the thing! I don't think I'm one or the other! I think I let certain people push me around, and others – like _you_ – I'm stubborn with. That can be the case."

I suppose that was a fair point. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that her concern about being pushed around by somebody was pretty valid. "Yeah," I said slowly, "I s'pose so. So I guess that means your _boyfriend_ is somebody you let push you around?"

"What?" Bee looked taken aback. "Have you…have you heard a _word_ I've said? He and I fought about it!"

"Well, then why would you let him say something like that to you, Bridget?"

"I didn't _let_ him. I never knew he would ever say anything like that. And he apologized - it's _fine_."

"Apologies mean nothin', Bee. I should know!" I shook my head. "I just don't like it. If it's such a big deal to you that he not push you around, why'd you forgive him?"

"He's _my_ boyfriend, ya know. _I_ make decisions about my relationship with him, and _you_ don't."

"Well, I'm not makin' a decision. I'm telling ya that he shouldn't say stuff like that to you. You know?"

"Like you would _know_. I can do this myself, Two-Bit." (Jesus. If she could do it herself, then why'd she tell me?) "I like him, alright? A lot. And if I want to give him a second chance, I'm not going to let you come in and tell me I can't."

I wanted to tell her to cut the bullshit. I knew what she was doing, and I knew how scared she was. I knew why she wanted to stay with him. And yeah, I'm sure there was a part of her that liked him. But I think a bigger part of her was scared and knew that staying with him was safe. And I understood that. I got that after everything, she wanted to be _safe_. So do I. With everything that's happened in the past year, with everything that's happening right _now_ , I'd give anything for my life to just even out for a bit. But I knew, too, that after New Year's, after seeing her face when she and I broke that kiss, I can tell there's a part of her that would give anything to _not_ have to make the safe choice. But I don't think she quite gets it – I don't really know how Jerry Thompson feels about her, but I love her. And I think the chances of her maybe someday loving me have gone up. Safe has nothing to do with money. Not in this way. But she needed to figure that out for herself.

"Well," I said cheerfully, "okay, then. If you can do this on your own, I'll let ya."

I stood up and started to leave. Hey – wasn't the worst date I'd been on. Certainly wasn't the worst _ending_ to any of the dates I'd been on. No, most of the ones I'd gone on with Kathy had ended pretty spectacularly, if by _spectacularly_ I mean _awful_. "Wait - what? Two-Bit!"

I turned around. She was standing there on the steps with her hands on her hips, looking madder than I'd seen her in a while. "What?"

She wanted to say something. All those ticks were there – the worrying on the bottom lip, the tugging on her hair. Things like that. I wanted to tell her that it was okay, that I wasn't really all _that_ mad, but if she's gonna go around saying things like that, she's gotta expect people to take her at her word. Sometimes, Bee seems lightyears behind me. I guess having the sort of childhood I did will do that to ya.

"I'm going to leave now," was all she said. I just shrugged.

"Be my guest, Miz Stevens. I ain't gonna stop you from doing anything."

XXXXX

The night I told my mother about Baronchelli, I waited until Sadie was in bed. She was a girl who had never known her father, and I didn't want her to know he'd sent somebody down to us just to cause trouble. Mom and I sat in the kitchen together on one of her nights off, the overhead light casting a yellow glow over us and making my mother look older than she is. She had her head in her hand, and I could tell she was nervous.

"What did he say he was here for?" Mom asked.

"Dad apparently owes them a lot of money," I answered slowly. "Sounds like it has to do with betting? I don't know exactly. But he told them this was his permanent address."

Mom closed her eyes and let out a slow breath. Nine years later and still putting up with her ex-husband's shit. "How much?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I was gonna track him down, but he said only to do that if I see David, so…"

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you seen him?"

I shook my head. "I haven't. I doubt he's here, Ma. Probably did that to throw them off his trail. More than likely, he's still in New York. Or out east somewhere, at least." When her face turned a mix between shock and worry, I smiled and put my hand over hers. "Mom, I'm gonna take care of it."

"You shouldn't have to," she whispered. "You do not owe that man anything."

"I know," I whispered back. "But I owe _you_ a lot. You have enough to deal with."

Mom smirked. "You can be a very good boy when you want to be."

I laughed a little. "I sure hope so. Not sure this guy'll think the same."

Mom went back to being worried. "This is so dangerous. Your father…I cannot _believe_ – "

"I can," I cut in. "I can believe he did this. And hell, Ma, think I've come up against scarier than _one_ mobster. I can handle it."

"If you think so…" She sighed. "Oh, Keith."

"What, Mom?"

She just shook her head over and over again, and we didn't say anything else.

XXXXX

It was another gloriously slow day at the DX. You'd think that after Sandy left Sodapop, the number of girls who showed up here would've multiplied, but that wasn't the case. It was about the same amount of girls, but the dead of winter was never a real busy time of year here. So I decided to bless Steve and Soda with my company.

"Ya know, I spend so much time here that you might as well start paying me like an employee."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You gotta work in order to get paid, Two-Bit."

"I work," I drawled. "In very mysterious ways."

" _Mysterious_ is one word for it," Soda chimed in, messing up my hair. I scowled up at him, but it really wasn't that big a deal. There wasn't anything in my hair. I'd let it hang down, and when I saw it in the mirror this morning, I realized that it was getting pretty long. And _wavy_. I looked like a _girl_. "It's freezing back here."

"Ain't much better up front," Steve grumbled. "When's the last time someone came by?"

Soda shrugged and sat down next to me. On the floor. At least I was up on a crate – I wouldn't want to sit on that cold, grease-slicked slab of cement. "Least a half hour ago. I just need to sit a minute."

"How was that party last night?" I asked. "The one at that guy's place, who's dad left him his entire company or something, and that huge house?"

Soda shrugged. "It was good. Think you woulda liked it. Good dancin'. That new girl, Bee Stevens? She can cut a _rug_ , man. She can _dance_." Soda looked a bit dreamy. "Couldn't make myself slow dance with 'er, though."

"Oh?" Steve asked. "Why not? Thought I told you to go out and have a good time while we were there last night."

"I did!"

"Yeah, but not a _good_ time."

"Hey, now," I drawled. "Let Soda set his own pace. He'll get back into the game at some point."

"Speakin' of the game, I saw Kathy last night," Steve told me. "With some guy from the RK. Her brother's gang, right?" I nodded. "How 'bout you, huh? When're you gonna get back in the game?"

Little did they know, I was playing it right now. And it was frustrating as hell. One second, we're kissing each other in the early seconds of the new year, and then a few weeks later, we're ignoring each other. Wasn't a great feeling. But – the lows were real low, but the highs were _real_ high. "Dunno, man. I'm havin' fun, don't worry. But you stick with a gal so long, it's nice to play the field."

"Ponyboy told me that you had a date a while back. That anything serious?" Soda asked.

"Define 'serious.'"

Soda huffed a laugh. "You know what I mean. Have you seen her again since then? Do you like 'er?"

Yes and _hell_ yes.

"Seen her a little bit," I shrugged. "I dunno yet, though. She's good for a romp," I lied, not knowing what exactly Bee's – ahem – _talents_ were. Not yet. But there was no way in hell that girl wasn't a virgin.

"Women, man," Steve sighed. "Just a few months ago, all three of us had girls. Now it's just me an' Evie."

"What, she borin' ya?" Soda snickered. Steve turned even _more_ serious.

" _Hell_ no, man. Evie's great. It's just weird."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "It is."

"I mean" – Steve held out his hands, palms up – "sometimes she gets on my nerves. She'll say stuff like _when we're married,_ or _when we have kids…_ and that shit's more scary than anything else."

"You think you will?" Soda asked. "Get married, that is?"

Steve stood up and popped his back. "Dunno," he said slowly. "I don't know. But I ain't exactly lookin' to break up with her. So. Maybe. Hell, I don't know. That's a ways off, even if we do."

It's weird, hearing your buddy talking about maybe marrying his girl when God punished you for being a dumbass your whole life by making you fall for a girl that you can't have, get you _this close_ to having her, and then she won't speak to you. Hey – whether or not He's there, our God is a cruel one. He shows you Heaven, and then throws you back into Hell.

XXXXX

"You've been ignoring me for going on two weeks now."

We needed to talk about this. We needed to stop dancing around each other. I knew she'd be around after school, and I'm a fan of the element of surprise. So when she opened those auditorium doors and saw me leaning against the opposite wall, smoking a cigarette and smiling at her through it, I knew the desired element had been achieved. But Bee Stevens herself has admitted to me that I turn her into a stubborn ass, so she set her feet and lifted her nose a bit into the air and proceeded to stand her ground.

"Maybe you've been ignoring me," Bee tried, but I shook my head.

"Naw. It's you." I gave her my best, brightest, hundred-watt smile. "Makes more sense, that you should be the one ignoring me, and not the other way 'round. We can't go on stayin' mad at each other like this."

"And why not?"

I wanted to meet her halfway, to be closer to her, but I didn't want to piss her off. She needed her space, and that was fair. "Because you're my friend, Bridget. And I don't want to lose you." I mumbled the last part around my smoke.

The poor girl instantly looked remorseful. I feel bad about jerking her around like this emotionally, but I wanted to be honest with her. "I'm sorry, Two-Bit."

I shook my head and smiled, though it wasn't as strong as the last time. I couldn't find it in myself to pretend with her. "It's alright, Honey Bee. Water under the bridge."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yeah, I mean it. We've come so far in this li'l' friendship of ours - don't wanna waste all that hard work on one little thing."

Bee scuffed her shoe against the tile floor. "You kissed me," she said softly. "Why did you do that?"

There were about a million reasons why I did that. But I gave her the same reason I gave her that night. "Oh. _Right_. Well, ain't that what you're s'posed to do?" I asked, playing dumb and tugging on one of her curls.

"Well, _yeah_ , but-"

"But _nothin'!_ You're my girl, Bee."

That seemed to throw her off. But it was the truth. And hey – she kissed me back. If I hadn't broken it off, I don't think either of us would've stopped that night. I left before she could say anything, which probably wasn't the best thing to do, looking back on it, but it was the only thing I knew to do just then because the extent of how true that was really started to scare me.

XXXXX

It took some doing, but I was able to track down Baronchelli. He was staying in a place that provided room and board, but according to the super, he was spending most of his time during the day out of the house. So that meant he could be anywhere. But he always came back at night, no matter what, and left at some point before noon each day.

"So you have _no idea_ where he goes?" I asked the super.

The super just shrugged and spit out his tobacco. "Nup. He comes 'n' 'e goes."

The super continued to chew on his dip like he was a cow chewin' on cud, and I briefly felt sick to my stomach for a second before remembering that I do the exact same thing, so no judgment from me. I leaned my forearms on the counter and fixed him with a grin. "You're absolutely _sure_ you don't know where he goes?"

"Nup."

I reached into my wallet and passed a twenty across the counter. "If you knew, would you tell President Jackson?"

The super narrowed his brow. "Who?"

I sighed. "Would you tell me for twenty bucks where the guy goes during the day?"

"Sure. If I knew, that is. I ain't got a darn clue where that wop goes." I winced at _wop_ , remembering too many times hearing random cowboys and truckers and just guys on the street yelling it at my mother. But he didn't seem to notice. "Sorry, kid."

Well, I wasn't gonna just wait around for the guy all day and have to listen to the super spit and chew and hack all day, so I decided to enlist the guys' help in canvasing town ( _"I've got work!" "Shut up, Darry, this is more important than work." "Not to me!")_ and finding him. Well, Darry was out, but I was able to get the rest of the guys ("the rest of the guys" is so much smaller now…) to help me.

"Alright," Soda began. The four of us had met up in the drugstore and were sitting in a booth now. "So Pony and I hit up every joint on Elm – "

"And I got every place on Madison," Steve added. Soda pointed at him.

"Right. And I don't know what Steve heard, but the barkeep at Harry's told us that he thought he saw a guy the other day come in wearin' a black trench and fedora, like you described. I think that's your guy, Two-Bit."

"And he said he'd come in at about eight-thirty, ordered a bourbon, and was in and out in twenty minutes," Pony told me. "So you've got a pretty short window of time if you wanna catch him there."

I raised an eyebrow. "How'd you get him to tell you all this?"

Pony shrugged. "I dunno. I didn't even have to pay him." The kid grimaced. "Maybe…I dunno…"

"Pony's right," Steve cut in. "You need to get over there before eight-thirty if you wanna try to catch him. I can get you over there, wait for you outside in case anything goes down."

"You sure?" I asked. Steve nodded.

"Yeah – c'mon, let's get goin' now."

When we got to Harry's, Steve stayed outside and I headed inside, scanning the place for anyone who met the guy's description. I was thinkin' I'd find him plastered to a dark corner, but I was surprised to see Baronchelli sitting at the bar, looking out of place amongst all these cowboys. I smiled and swaggered up to him.

"Ciao," I greeted, and sat down on the stool next to him. Baronchelli turned, not looking amused when he saw me.

"So you found me."

"Sure did!"

"You've got info for me?"

I shook my head. "Nup. But I think you've got some for _me_. Look, pal – I haven't seen or heard from my father in nine years. I don't know a thing that could help you. But I think you do – help me help you, huh?"

"Why should I?"

I narrowed my eyes and sat back a bit. So that was how he was gonna play it. Well, two could play at that game. "Let me buy you a drink," I offered. "After all - Una cena senza vino e come un giorno senza sole," I grinned, and Baronchelli rolled his eyes.

"Ain't a meal in front of us, kid," he mumbled, but I could tell he was kinda amused with me. Most people are. "Alright. I'll let you buy me a drink."

"What'll you have?"

"Bourbon."

I waved down the barkeep. "Bourbon for him, Bud Lite for me." The bartender slammed them down in front of us. He was watching us with a wary eye, and I wondered if he was the one Sodapop and Ponyboy had talked to. I turned to Baronchelli, trying to send the message to this guy that he needed to stay out of it.

"Give me the low-down," I said pleasantly. "If you want my help, I have to know what's going on." When Baronchelli only shifted on his stool and looked down at his drink, I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at me. "I'm serious now. I'm not just gonna _give_ you my money when it's my father made this whole mess. I've gotta know exactly what it is I'm cleanin' up for him. You either tell me what's going on, or me and my buddies'll run you outta town. And trust me – one-on-five ain't good odds."

"That a threat, Mathews?"

"It's a _promise_ , Baronchelli. Now – _tell me what the fuck is going on_."

XXXXX

 **AN: "** ** _Una cena senza vino e come un giorno senza sole_** **" is an Italian saying that means "** ** _A meal without wine is a day without sunshine_** **." I realize neither of them had wine, or food. What can I say? Two-Bit's a goober.**

 **I realize this chapter might have felt a bit like filler, but it's** ** _important_** **filler. Trust me. Because the next couple chapters are pretty emotionally intense. So this is the calm before the storm ;)**

 **Thanks for reading! If you have thoughts, be sure to let me know!**


	19. Pretty Little Thing

**Author's Note: Chapter eighteen comin' at ya! I'd like to note for the next couple chapters that** ** _HappierThanMost_** **and I are building up a whole baseball mythology around Two-Bit (and Darry, to some extent), and it's very prevalent in chapters nineteen and twenty, so I'm gonna take this opportunity to plug her wonderful one-shot,** ** _Remind Me Who I Am_** **. I reference a few things in that story in the next couple chapters, so if you're so inclined,** ** _please_** **go read that!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

 _"_ _Give me the low-down," I said pleasantly. "If you want my help, I have to know what's going on." When Baronchelli only shifted on his stool and looked down at his drink, I grabbed his shoulder and forced him to look at me. "I'm serious now. I'm not just gonna give you my money when it's my father made this whole mess. I've gotta know exactly what it is I'm cleanin' up for him. You either tell me what's going on, or me and my buddies'll run you outta town. And trust me – one-on-five ain't good odds."_

 _"_ _That a threat, Mathews?"_

 _"_ _It's a promise, Baronchelli. Now_ – tell me what the fuck is going on."

Baronchelli sighed. "Alright. You listenin', kid?"

"'Course."

He pushed his drink aside. "You said yourself that your father's a bettin' man. He like baseball?"

I looked down at my hands briefly, remembering too much all at once. "He sure does," I said, looking back up at my new acquaintance. "Um. You're from out east?"

"Brooklyn."

I smirked. "Yeah, thought you were from thereabouts. My old man, when he met my mother, he was this minor league catcher. Farm team for the Yankees. Then a farm team for the Dodgers – they were his favorite. Then the two of them somehow found their way down here when it looked like it wasn't gonna pan out for him. He was real bitter about it, I remember that."

Baronchelli rolled his eyes. Was excessive eye-rolling an east coast thing? "Thanks for telling me his life's story, kid, but I don't really _care_ about that. Tell me – who won the World Series last year?"

"Orioles," I answered, without even having to think.

" _And who did they lose to?_ "

"Dodgers," I mumbled. Baronchelli smiled.

"Seems you're a fan, too. Guess yer old man was still a fan even after the move to LA because he was cocksure they was gonna beat Baltimore. Well, we all know how that shook out. But the problem is, your old man's an idiot, and long story short, he owes my boss about two grand." Baronchelli sighed and took a drink. "It's one thing for politicians –guys like that – to get involved with us. Your old man's a deadbeat, regular Joe sorta guy. He's got himself mixed up in somethin' he shouldn't've. Damn fool thing to do. You've got more balls than he does – chicken threw us right off his tail and onto yours. You've got guts, kid."

I let it all sink in. I think I remember a couple bookies coming around the old place when I was a kid when Dad didn't pay up, but doing this…it's wild, man. "So you came to collect two grand," I summed up.

Baronchelli nodded. "That's right, kid."

I sighed. "But that's the thing, man – not only do I not got that kinda money, this ain't my _problem_."

"Sure are treatin' it like it is."

I shook my head. "Because I need you outta here, that's why. Man, you stick out like a sore thumb 'round here. And it ain't my fault that my old man owes you two-thousand dollars. All I can tell you is that he ain't here, and that you're gonna have to get that two-thousand from him."

A hand landed on my shoulder and Baronchelli turned my body so I was forced to look at him. He looked dangerous, and not in the Tim Shepard way. He looked like he was about ready to take me out back and break my legs, no mercy. What the Shepard gang had done to me a few months ago would look like a cakewalk compared to what he would probably do to me. "I've got my own rep to think of, ya know. I can't go back without that two thousand dollars, and I ain't about to go on a wild goose chase lookin' for this guy. So either you find a way to pay me, or you're gonna regret it."

He shoved me as he let go of my shoulder and stood up and left, leaving me to pay for his drink.

XXXXX

 _"_ _High school coach says if I play a year JV, I'm guaranteed a spot startin' varsity sophomore year."_

 _Darry looked impressed. "Seriously? Wouldn't you be cuttin' ahead of the guy they got on JV now?"_

 _I shot Darry a proud, cocky smile. "Hell yeah, man. I'm the best catcher in town – you know that as well as anybody else."_

 _Darry sorta laughed. "Yeah, you're right."_

 _Darry and I were sixteen and fourteen, respectively. Darry was just starting his junior year, and me my freshman. But we had bright, bright futures ahead of us. Darry had to quit playing baseball a couple years ago, but with his Golden Arm, any college scout would be plain stupid to overlook him for a football scholarship. And me? Like I said – I was the best damn catcher in Tulsa. Learned at my father's knee, like I learned a lot of things. He and I were headed over to Crutchfield Park – just to toss the ball around. Like we always did on long summer days. But now, it was a Saturday evening, the sun setting nice and slow, everything yellow and orange. The park didn't have any lights, but we still had plenty of time in the dying light. We kicked up dust as we walked across the diamond, Darry stopping on the pitcher's mound to reminisce about his last game._

 _"_ _You got so mad at me," he recalled. "Because I wasn't gonna follow your signals."_

 _I chuckled. "You deserved it, man. You woulda been an idiot if you hadn't followed 'em."_

 _"_ _I know," he sighed. "C'mon – let's head over that way."_

 _I don't know many guys who don't at least_ like _baseball. The dusty diamond, the field that goes on forever, night games, boxes of Cracker Jack, the crack of ball against bat, and smack of ball against glove. That's the only sound Darry or I can hear right now, leather-on-leather, except for the occasional jeer if one of us happens to miss a long one, or a hiss of delighted pain at the sting of a caught ball thrown too hard._

 _"_ _Sometimes I miss it," Darry tells me as we walk back. I wonder what the other guys would think of our little tradition._

 _"_ _You could always come back," I shrug. "Two different seasons. Coach would take you back."_

 _Darry shook his head. "Naw. That's okay. It's just sometimes that I miss it. Like now. Feels like a long time ago when we last played together."_

 _"_ _Wasn't really. Couple years."_

 _"_ _I know. But it feels like forever ago."_

XXXXX

 _Usual spot, six. It's_ _URGENT._ – _Bridget_

I hadn't bothered with a response in class. If she told me to be here, she knew I'd be here. No questions asked. So I sat back on the steps like usual, lit a cigarette like usual, and waited – like usual. I was always there first. I don't know if that made me early, or her late. When a blue Beetle pulled up to the lot, I was a bit confused at first, but then Bee stepped out and I could breathe easier.

"Nice wheels," I commented as she approached, arms crossed over her red raincoat.

"Got 'em for my birthday," she told me. "You like?"

I nodded. "Ain't exactly what _I_ would go for, but it suits you real well, I think." My face fell a bit. "Sorry I didn't know about your birthday, kid."

Bee scuffed her shoe against the concrete. "That's okay. Not like I said anything about it."

"Could I make it up to you somehow?" Bee shook her head. She didn't seem to be in a chatty mood tonight, with the crossed arms and brooding face, so I sighed and asked, "What'd you wanna meet for?"

She snapped to attention and stared me down. "Why did you say that to me?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "Say _what?_ "

"You damn well know what!" she cried, suddenly all in a huff. "You called me your _girl!_ I am _not_ your girl, Two-Bit Mathews! I'm not your girl any more than I am _Jerry's_ girl, not anymore."

"What's _that_ s'posed to mean?"

Her arms fell to her side and she closed her eyes, frustrated. "I don't...I don't think I want to be with Jerry anymore," she admitted quietly. "I don't love him the way I used to."

She dropped down beside me and buried her head in her hands. I felt bad for her – I mean, yeah, I wanted to make things official between us, if that's something she ever wanted. But I think I've said before that Bee? I don't think she's ever really gotten a lot of…male attention. She wasn't like the other girls I knew. And mostly, that was a good thing. Change of pace. But boy, did all this confuse her. She'd been groomed from the day she arrived her to be a mini Vickie Harper, and I don't know how well it always suited her.

"Maybe you never did," I mumbled. "I dunno. But I'm sorry I called you my girl. I just…well, I just meant…ya know. You're just a _girl_ , and you're my friend, and...I can't say that about a lotta gals, so I guess I said that because you're the one that pisses me off the least. Or - maybe you're the one that pisses me off the most, I dunno."

She turned and looked up at me, resting her head no her knees. "I think maybe we're more than friends, Two-Bit."

I grinned. I knew what she was getting at. "Well, I s'pose we are. I just ain't quite sure _what_. All I know is that you frustrate me to no end, and I can't seem to get you outta my head."

"I think about you a lot too, Two-Bit," Bee whispered.

"Ya do?" I asked. She nodded. "Well, Jesus Christ. Lookit the two of us."

"What's there to look at?"

"Well, _goll_ y, I dunno. You and me just make a real odd pair."

"I _guess_ so."

"I _know_ so."

"You know so, huh?" she parroted. I nodded real serious.

"I do. I mean, _really_ , Bridget. Here I am, a no-good hood with long hair and police record. And here _you_ are, little Miz Bee, going on dates with your quarterback boyfriend and lookin' real nice. Nicer than I ever could, at least."

She smacked my arm. "Shut up. And so what? It's not as if I care."

"I think you do!" I sang. "I think you care a real whole lot. I think you're afraid of all this. I think you're scared, Bridget."

XXXXX

"Two-thousand dollars," my mother repeated, dumbfounded. "Your father owes those men _two-thousand dollars_."

I nodded, smiling without a trace of happiness or humor. Irony, maybe. "Yep. Two-K." When Mom just sorta wilted, leaning against the counter with a complete look of _un_ surprise, I sighed. "Of course he pulled somethin' like this. Of _course_ he did."

"I know," she sighed. "I just…" she shrugged. "We will not tell your sister about this."

"'Course not."

"If only I had known," she breathed. And I felt that. I got it. If only she had known when she'd gotten here that she was gonna get stuck with some washed-up, hapless, _hopeless_ , yellow-bellied minor leaguer. Knowing my mother, if she had known all that, she woulda run in the other direction. Maybe back to Italy. Married some tanned, hard-working Italian boy, make her mother happy. Things had not gone the way they were supposed to. But she would never say that out loud. "But if I had known, I would not have you and your sister. And that…that is a horrible thing."

I bit my lip. "We'd never have existed, ya know. You wouldn't have felt bad about it, and neither would we."

Mom shook her head. "But you do. And sometimes, I am sorry for that. For the life you have."

"It's not a bad life, Mom," I confided softly. "It's really not. But this guy's gonna come for me, though, if this doesn't happen. He won't come for either of you. So I'm gonna need to figure this out because I know we don't have the money."

Mom came and sat across from me. "You are right. We do not have that kind of money," she said, eyebrows drawn in thought. "But I suppose we will have to give it to him anyway."

"Not necessarily. I could find a way."

"How?" She questioned. "Gambling? Stealing? Like your father does?"

" _No_ ," I drawled, though gambling probably is my main source of…we'll call it _income_. "But I'll find a way, okay? I will."

"I wish you did not have to fight my battles," she whispered miserably.

"It ain't just yours."

"What I _truly_ wish is that none of this had ever happened. But I cannot go back in time and tell your father I would not follow him here."

Seems the move from New York to Oklahoma is a tough one for everybody who does it. For a lot of reasons, but she was right – she shouldn't've followed him. But then I wouldn't be here, which means Bee Stevens would end up with _Jerry Thompson_ , so fuck _that_.

XXXXX

"So, tell me about yourself."

I really didn't care about what's-her-name had to say. She was blonde, buxom, and beautiful – just my type, if my type wasn't Bee Stevens. She tittered and wobbled on her heels, a little indisposed, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Couldn't afford to be too cruel if I wanted to get laid.

"What's to tell?" She asked, voice lilting. "I'm a secretary at a doctor's office, I graduated two years ago, I like martinis, and my favorite show is _I Love Lucy_."

"Fascinating," I drawled.

"How about you, huh? Tell me all about the infamous Two-Bit Mathews."

I raised an eyebrow. " _Well –_ "

Just as I was about to launch into my usual spiel, the door to the joint was flung open with a crash, loud enough to be heard over the music. Everyone else just stared for a moment and then went back to their lives, but my stomach dropped to my feet when I saw Bee marching over to me like a woman on a mission. The girl with me looked taken aback, and not too happy to see another chick approaching us.

"We need to talk," she said, in no uncertain terms. I raised an eyebrow and looked between the two girls.

"What're you _doin'_ here?" I asked. I grabbed Bee's arm and turned back to the blonde. "C'mere. One sec, hun."

It may sound rough, but I sorta dragged her outside and outta that joint. On the list of places where she _shouldn't_ be…I don't even have to finish that sentence. I cooled down a bit once we got outside, not feeling so suffocated. But still feeling just as worried.

"Why're you here?" I demanded. I didn't mean to sound like her old man, but she can't just waltz over to this side of town without me to make sure she doesn't get in trouble – which, this whole situation was screaming that she had. "This is the _last_ place in the world you should be! Bee -"

"I know!" she shouted. "Just -just listen. Look, about Dallas and Vickie -"

"Jesus, Two-Bit! What the hell are you up to now?"

I knew that voice. Curly Shepard was standing at the entrance to Brookie's, a twisted smile on his lips and leer in his eyes. I didn't have time to deal with his shit right now.

"Get the fuck outta here, Curly," I warned. "You ain't s'posed to be here anyways. I'll tell Tim, kid."

(Curly'll say he's tough, but bring up his big brother…)

"Like hell you will!" Curly yelled. "I ain't scared of him, ya know."

"Sure you ain't. Now get outta here before I cut your head from your ass!"

Curly shook his head and stalked off. I've had just about enough of the Shepard family for one lifetime.

"'Scuse my language, Miz Bee," I apologized (though we'd heard much worse from each other, I'm sure of it), turning back to her and running a hand through my hair. "Now, what's this about Vickie and Dallas?"

Bee took a deep breath and launched right into it. "Two-Bit, they slept together. And Vickie..." Her eyes filled up, and she started to shake her head. " _Vickie_ …she was _pregnant_." She took another shaky deep breath, not able to look me in the eye. I wondered when she'd learned all this, if she had found all this out tonight. Because if she did, no wonder she was crying. "But the baby's gone now. She got rid of it. I just figured you should know."

"Oh," I mumbled. But then the dots connected. Vickie…and _Dallas_ …oh, _god._ And she…she got rid of the kid. Right. Okay. I don't really care about that. Or – do I? Because it was Dally's? Or does the fact that it would have been _Dally's_ kid running around make it worse? Or is it worse that she got rid of _Dally's_ kid, who would have been all that was really left of him? " _Oh_ ," I repeated. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I asked, kinda pissed about it, but I wasn't about to go off on her – not in her state.

"I don't know," she garbled. I sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"You don't have to cry," I whispered. "It's gonna be fine."

"I don't know if it will be."

"Yeah it will."

"How would you know? Two-Bit –!"

I needed her to shut up, so I kissed her. This one was a little less urgent than the one on New Year's Eve, but she was just as willing to reciprocate, placing her hands on my arms. And again – I could've stayed there with her all night, but that couldn't happen. Not tonight. She still looked like she was about to burst into tears. I grinned down at her.

"You're smart. You'll figure this out," was all I told her.

I kissed her cheek, feeling bad about leaving her so lost and alone, but not knowing what else to do or say. So I went back inside.

XXXXX

A couple hours later, and I was still hanging around. After Bee had left and I'd come back in, I told the blonde to get lost, not able to look at her the same way anymore, and sat at the bar, waxing philosophical with the barkeep and cracking open all his peanuts without eatin' any of 'em. ( _"I should make you pay for those." "You should, but you're not gonna. You like me too much.")_

"Tell me somthin', John," I slurred, not looking the barkeep in the eye. "You ever been in love before?"

"Not longer than a night. Why?"

I gave a pithy laugh. "Lucky you, man. Cuz it's the worst feelin' in the world."

John raised his eyebrows. "How old are you, again?"

"Nineteen in June."

John shook his head. "You're just a kid. Whaddya know about being in love?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What do _you_ know? You just said you never loved a woman longer 'an a night. Why should I listen to _you?_ "

"Just sayin' – lots of fish in the sea. You're young. Take advantage of it."

I shook my head back and forth like crazy. _"No,_ man. Nope. Don't wanna."

"That chick that came stormin' in here tonight – the one in the pink dress with the black hair – she who you talkin' 'bout?"

I nodded. "Yeah, man. Bee Stevens. You prolly ain't heard of her."

"That was Bee Stevens? Shit. She ain't how I pictured her in my head."

That was sort of sobering. I scowled at John, not liking how it seems that everybody in this town knew who she was, had some sort of _idea_ of her. "Man, shut up."

"I didn't mean it like that – she's good-lookin', people are right about that."

"How do you even know who she _is?_ " I grumbled. "You been outta school least fifteen years, right?"

"Hey – news is slow some days," John shrugged, giving me the same line Darry had given me when I'd told him. "'Sides, that was a compliment, ain't it?"

"Not the point, John-boy – "

"Hey, Two-Bit."

I glanced up and saw Steve sidle up next to me and sit down. "Well, howdy, Randle. What brings you here?"

"Just clocked out. Thought you could buy me a drink."

"Sure thing. John, make Randle here your fruitiest drink. Something with a little umbrella in it."

Steve rolled his eyes, and that just made me laugh. A couple minutes later, Steve had something yellow and fruity-lookin' in front of him, and he grimaced. "You're smashed. You're gonna let me take you home, right?"

"Sure, Stevie."

"Rough night?" He asked.

I slid my eyes over to look at him while I took a sip from my longneck. "Man, you don't know the half of it."

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah, yeah. How about you?"

"Work was steady. Had an interesting encounter, though."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. See, I'm manning the register, not another soul in the place, when a light blue Beetle pulls up to the joint, and who should come charging in but Bee Stevens." Steve's grin hid what was probably whole lot of irritation. "Went off on me the second she saw me. Take a gander who it was she was lookin' for."

"I dunno, Steve. Why don't you tell me?"

Steve leaned in closer. "She was lookin' fer _you_. You. Two-Bit Mathews. Said it was really fucking important that she find _you_."

"Did she now."

"Yep. So did she? Find you, that is?"

"Sure did," I drawled. "What's it to you?"

"Ya know, I lied," Steve continued on, ignoring my question. "I didn't come here straight from work. Stopped by Soda's first. Told him about what happened. Turns out, she stopped by the DX earlier this week, two of them had a heart-to-heart."

That piqued my interest. "Oh, yeah? What about?"

"Seems Miss Popular and future Boy of the Year are having trouble in paradise. She's met another guy, Two-Bit. I don't know what it was Soda told _her_ , but I can't help but wonder, ya know? Who this other guy is." Steve lifted his fruity drink to his mouth a sipped through the straw, watching me the whole time. "Mm. Good stuff. Anyways, you wouldn't happen to know, would you? Because Soda didn't have a _clue_."

"Well, he usually _don't_ ," I snapped. "Look – I don't know what's up with the third degree, but I don't care. I don't know anything, man."

"That's a lie," Steve drawled. "You said she found you tonight. She was lookin' for you. I think I know why."

I snarled at my buddy, knowing in the back of my head that I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. Protecting her meant that I sometimes had to protect her from the people I cared about. "You don't know anything, Steve."

Steve's smile never faltered. "I know enough."

XXXXX

 **AN: Eek! So I guess I'm leaving it there!**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed. If you did, be sure to let me know! Heads up – next chapter might be my favorite chapter of the whole story, so be expecting big things.**

 **Remember – reviews are my drug, y'all :)**


	20. Washed-Up Ballplayers

**Author's Note: Here it is – probably my favorite chapter in the whole story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! I'd also like to thank you all for your continued reads and support. Means** ** _so_** **much. Got another anon review, so I'd like to shout them out since I can't PM you – thank you so much, amber!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

I wanted to find a way to be honest. I did. And I did find a roundabout way of doing the honest thing. I did! But if it weren't for a throwaway comment by Darry Curtis himself, I think I would've done the desperate thing. I _know_ I would have. Because the whole situation was about to get pretty dire.

XXXXX

For a guy who couldn't find my father, Baronchelli sure was good at finding me no matter where I was.

"Two-Bit," Darry said, coming into the kitchen, where I was bugging Pony while he did up the dishes. "Some guy's at the door, asking for you. Brooklyn accent." He slid his eyes over to the door and back to me. "That the guy?" He whispered. I sighed.

"Prolly. Wonder how the hell he found me."

"Beats me, but I want him off my porch. Go see what he wants."

Baronchelli wasn't wearing his hat. I threw the door open and cornered him on the porch. It was a cold night, so I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to send a different message. "How'd you find me?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter. I have big news, kid."

"Yeah? That cuckold pay you himself?" I spat. "Or what?"

"Got a call," Baronchelli said.

"From your boss?"

He shook his head. "Boss hardly ever calls. No, another one of my associates." His mouth flattened. "Kid. Your father's dead."

My eyebrows shot up. Dead _to me_ , yes. But dead? "Run that by me again."

"He's dead. Strung himself up by the rafters."

"So you're telling me…that he's _dead_."

Baronchelli nodded. "As a doornail, kid."

I didn't quite know how to react. "…Oh. Okay, then."

"Condolences," he said dryly, and I didn't have the presence of mind to tell him that his condolences weren't necessary because I didn't think I'd be doing any grieving.

"So…what's that mean, then?" I asked.

"'Bout the money?" I nodded. Baronchelli took a drag off his smoke and sighed. "Kid. I know this ain't your fault. And I'm sorry. I am. But I've told you before that I can't go back emptyhanded. I just can't. So I'm sorry, Mathews, but that's the way it's gotta be. You either give me the money, or prepare yourself to be in a whole 'nother world of hurt."

"That a threat?" I asked, playing back a conversation I'd had three too many times in the past year.

"Unfortunately, it's a promise."

XXXXX

"How long are you gonna be gone?"

Mom sighed. She snapped her suitcase shut and shook her head. "Hopefully not long. But the train ride will take several hours there and back. And then I will have to deal with everything in between. If your father was going to kill himself, he could have at least had the courtesy to do it somewhere nearby."

I smirked. "Yeah, well, common courtesies aren't really his thing, are they?"

"No, I suppose they're not."

"Mom?" We both looked up and saw Sadie standing in the doorway. "Where ya goin'?"

I turned to my mother, not wanting to be the one to explain. Because I wouldn't be able to pretend that I cared. I could tell Mom wanted me to stay, but I _couldn't_. I couldn't _do_ this right now. I couldn't face either of them, knowing I was too much like _him_ for my mother to bear, for Sadie to understand, for me to sit there and not feel like that I was suffocating. There was kinda only one person I wanted to see at the moment. So I did what any person would do and looked her up in the new phone book and called her.

"Hel _lo_ , this is Bridget Stevens," her voice said when she picked up, quick and sweet, and for two seconds there, everything was normal.

"Bee?"

There was a beat of silence before she answered. I think I'd surprised her. "Yeah, it's me. Two-Bit?"

"Yeah! So - you free?"

"I'm free," she drawled. "Why?"

"Don't ask _why_. I'll be at your house in ten. Be ready."

I hung up on her, told my mother I was going out, and headed for the west side of town, praying this old rust bucket wouldn't let me down tonight. I had big plans. I needed to talk to somebody, and as perfect as her life was, I had a funny feeling she'd understand. Bee was sitting on her front porch in a pair of jeans – of all things I'd seen her wear, _jeans_ was the oddest to see her in – and a sweater, whites Keds on her little feet, bouncing her legs up and down. She looked oddly young. Like this whole big world was just _too big_ for her. I was gonna walk up and greet her, but she beat me to it and came down her front walk and just got in.

"Why're you here?" she asked bluntly. I smirked, thinking of the other night, of everything that had happened. Of everything I'd learned from her. But I didn't want to talk about all that. I just wanted to see her.

"I didn't feel as though we left on particularly good terms the other night. I just felt like maybe we could talk better on our own, without Curly Shepard insertin' his usual bullshit. That okay?"

"It's fine. We just gonna drive around then?"

I cleared my throat. "Naw, I've got somewhere we can park." Her face went a bright red, and I laughed. "Don't be gettin' any ideas, Bee. It ain't like that."

"I didn't think so,"

"Yeah you did."

"Oh! - shut up."

We drove for a while without saying anything, and when I got to the lookout, we were still silent, just staring straight ahead at the city below us. She was right – I'd taken a lot of girls up here. Lots of guys had. But that's not what I had in mind. Not right now. "C'mon - let's get outta the truck." I got out, grabbing the bag of snuff I'd found on the floor of the cab, and climbed on top of my truck. Bee poked her head out her window and stared at me. And I stared right back at her.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" She asked. I smiled down on her.

"Just get your butt up here," I commanded, banging on the spot beside me, the clang of metal the loudest thing for miles. "C'mon! It's a great view."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"C'mon, Stevens – live a little. Come exist with me, darling."

That seemed to confuse her. I think I heard her grumbling about it to herself as she got out and came up to join me. It was a tight fit, shoulder-to-shoulder, but it was comfortable in the air of the coming spring.

"It's nice up here," she said softly. I felt myself nod.

"It is," I agreed. "Bee?"

"Yeah."

"I've liked you a real long time."

Woah. She looked at me. "Then do something about it," she suggested, not unkindly. Not mocking me. Just looking at me with those big eyes with the most earnest expression on her face. I laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"You're real funny, ya know. Wouldn't your parents worry about you runnin' around with a hood like me?"

"Parent," she corrected boldly. I raised an eyebrow.

"Whaddya mean?"

"I _mean_ , I have _one_ parent. One. My dad."

I nodded absently, stuffing chew in my mouth. "Chewin' tobacco," I told her, seeing the question written all over her face.

"Oh." She cringed when I spit. "That's disgusting. How can you stand that stuff?"

I shrugged. I thought back to freshman year, how even though we weren't _really_ s'posed to do it, all us guys who played ball chewed tobacco. It was the thing to do, even though I preferred cigarettes to chew. "I dunno. Ain't so bad - just that they say my teeth are gonna get real yellow."

I smiled at her, and she shoved me back in disgust. "I can't _believe_ you."

"I know you can't."

A quiet fell back over us for a while before I remembered what I had brought her out here to talk about. I told you she'd understand. I get those feelings about people, and I usually ain't wrong. "So your mama left you?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah. She did," she whispered.

"I get that. I'm in touch with the whole _abandoned-by-a-parent_ feeling."

"Which one?"

"My old man."

"Oh. What'd we do to deserve something like that?"

I shrugged – I never had any answers, or, not any good ones. "I dunno. But I like to think the three of us - my ma, sister, and I - are better off without 'im."

"It's always just been the two of us," Bee whispered, not looking at me, just looking out at the cityscape in front of us. "I've never known what it's like to have a mother - and sometimes, it's the worst feeling in the world."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It is. Sometimes, I can hardly stand it. I wish there was someone besides him I could go to for certain things." Her mouth twitched like it wanted to smile. "I mean, I had to explain to my dad the importance of buying a dress for homecoming a while back. And I'm gonna have to explain to him that I can't wear it again for prom. Moms get that sort of thing. Dads don't."

I tugged on one of her curls and smiled down at her. "I s'pose they don't."

"Are we gonna become our parents, Two-Bit?" She asked miserably. "Is it some sort of trap, a _cycle_ that we've been sucked into?"

She didn't want to know the answer to that.

"I hope not. But I'd be real stupid if I didn't say I was already turning into my old man."

"Why would you say _that?"_

"'Cuz it's true," I said pleasantly. "Listen - I could _say_ that I'm not gonna run away from my problems, that having a coupl'a kids isn't a burden. And maybe I don't think that yet. But I can _tell_. I can just tell that I got a little more than these eyes from that bastard."

She didn't know how much. She could _see_ him if she just looked at me. But she couldn't see everything else he saddled me with. Not yet.

"Maybe you won't be like that," she tried, but I shook my head.

"Maybe. Hey - can I show you somethin?" She nodded. "Good. Thanks, Bee."

I don't know what made me think of it. All I had wanted to do was talk, not really delve into my sob story. But I drove us to the first place we'd lived in, a small…well, it was really more of a shack than a house on a country road. The overhang on the place was sinking. The windows were shattered in places from when I'd come over the past couple years and smashed them in myself, or from being at the mercy of the elements. The yard was mostly dirt and gravel now. I'd knocked the mailbox off its pole about a year back. The only other living person I know who remembers this place – besides my mother – is Darry. He knows the whole story. Hell, a lot of people do. It's just that nobody talks about it.

"What is this place?" Bee asked, lip curled a bit.

"I used to live here. We moved after Sadie was born."

"Oh," she whispered. And then she just stared at it for a while. I felt bad about freaking her out, but the rock I'd picked up – without even noticing – was weighing heavy in my hand, and I had to get rid of it. You ever break a window before? On purpose? It's not a bad feeling. When I launched it and it shattered glass, my aim still near-perfect after all this time, Bee jumped.

"What're you _doing?"_ she squealed.

All I could do was laugh. It seemed so obvious to me what I was doing. "I'm throwing rocks at windows," I drawled. She rolled her eyes.

" _Why?"_ She pressed. I gave her a guilty smile.

"Just, uh, just letting out some pent-up emotion, I s'pose. Most of those other breaks are from me, too," I explained, pointing them out. "I come around here a lot. Something about it..." I trailed off and cut my eyes to hers. "We should go inside."

"What? Two-Bit, that's a _horrible_ idea! It's gonna cave in any second…"

I wasn't hearing her. I just grabbed her hand and pulled her inside after me. She needed to understand. And I couldn't go in alone. I pushed the door open, not surprised it was unlocked, and walked inside, spreading my arms apart and watching her as she stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking nervous.

"Welp, here it is."

"Not much to look at."

It really wasn't. Dusty and grey and falling apart. So, naturally, I asked, "Wanna see my old room?"

She nodded and followed my lead down the hall. There was an old bureau pushed up against the wall and a metal bedframe. The floor creaked beneath us as we moved. Bee had her hands in front of her, wringing them like she did when she was nervous, so I sidled up next to her and put my arm around her waist. That's the first time I'd ever done that. It was always the shoulders up until then. This felt right, and from the way she kinda leaned into me, I think she thought so, too. "The stuff in here is just about in the same place as I last saw it... 'cept the bed had a mattress, of course," I grinned. When she didn't even _pretend_ like that was funny, I sighed. "I dunno what it is about you, Bridget, but you're the first person I've brought here. I mean, everyone _knows_ about this place. Bbut I don't want people knowin' I lived here. I guess there are just some things people are better off _not_ knowin'."

"I'm sorry your daddy left you," was what she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"And I'm sorry your mama's gone. But hell, kid, if anyone can put up with somethin' like that, it'd be us."

Her voice was shaking when she asked, "Why?"

I pulled her closer. "'Cuz we're puttin up with it together. That's why,"

And she _cried_. And I mean _cried._ It's like that was all I had to say to get the floodgates to burst open, and then she was _off_. Digging her fingernails into my flannel and burying her face in my chest, making it damp and my T-shirt stick to my skin. This was crying like I'd never seen before. This was crying on a _cosmic scale_. And I didn't like it. Not because I was uncomfortable, but because the more _she_ cried, the more I wanted to just give in and join her. I don't know why it set her off – maybe because she could tell I meant it. And I _did_. I really did. "Hey, _hey_ ," I soothed. "Why're you cryin'? There ain't anything wrong. Nothing's wrong."

"You don't _get_ it," she sobbed, though I thought I did. "Two-Bit, what made this house so bad for you? You gotta tell me." I sighed, then let go of her and sat down right in the middle of the floor.

"Siddown," I told her. "It's a bit of a story." She sat down. And I dove right in. "My dad wasn't a good guy. But that ain't exactly unusual for dads on my side of town. He was gone a lot, and when he came home, he got here real late. It don't take a genius to figure out what he was doin'. My ma was no exception. She, uh...she _tried_ to talk about it with him, but..." I sighed. "Um. Well, uh, it didn't exactly go how she thought."

"Did he hurt her?" she asked, knees pulled tight to her chest.

"Yeah," I muttered, not liking thinking back to it, but for some reason needing to dig it all back up. "He did. Anyways, my ma's smart. And she knew, and he was pissed that she figured it out. So he got her real good."

"How old were you?"

"I was nine. God – my sister wasn't even a year old yet. Wanna know the worst part?" She nodded her head. "Ya know how you can see the living room from here?" I asked, craning my head and pointing.

"Yeah."

"Kinda saw it all happen from here. I heard somethin' going on, cracked that door open, and there it all was."

Bee's face fell even further, if that's even possible. "I'm so sorry, Two-Bit."

"It's okay."

" _No_. No, it's _not_. Wanna know something else?"

"What?"

She scooted over so we were sitting face-to-face. I thought for a second that she was gonna grab either side of my head so she'd have my full attention, but she already had it. "I'm sorry that I was so awful to you. At the beginning of the year. I'm so sorry. I was an asshole."

Well, I had to smile at _that_. "You were, that's true. But I wasn't much better. And lookit you now!" I gestured to the room. "It's got you here! To my shitty old room in my shitty old house!" I shook my head. "I meant it when I said I like you, Bridget. And I think I have a solid answer as to why now."

"What is it?"

"Not tellin'! But...I'll tell you someday, Miz Bee."

She snorted softly. "Fair enough. Can we go?"

"'Course."

I stood up and offered my hand to her, and this time, she actually took it and let me help her up. "Thank you," she whispered. "Hey, Two-Bit?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got a good arm, Two-Bit."

I nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I get that from him, too."

We walked out, shoulder-to-shoulder still, back to the truck. "Tell me somethin', Bee."

"Shoot."

"What would you do if you found out your mother had died? Like, would you be upset?"

Bridget furrowed her brow. "I…I don't know. At least, not upset in the usual way. I wouldn't be upset that she had _died_ , per se, but that her dying was another way to disrupt my life. You know? And that I shouldn't _have_ to care that she's dead because she didn't care enough to stick around for us…but now I'm expected to care about her death, for some reason. It would just…I think it would throw me off. And I've had enough of that lately. Why do you ask?" I stared at her without saying a word, hoping I wouldn't have to and she would figure it out for herself, but she's not always so good at seeing what's right in front of her face. "Did something happen, Two-Bit? Or, is something _going_ to happen?"

I sighed through my nose. "Bee. _My_ father died. Yesterday, or somethin'."

"Really?" She asked. I nodded. "Are…are you _okay?_ "

I shrugged. "I think so. Um. To be honest, it feels kinda good, knowing there's no chance he'll just show up on our front porch or somethin'." Or send any more mobsters to our house. "Sadie's a bit confused about the whole thing, I think, and I think I am, too."

"Of course you are. Um. Do you know what happened?"

I waffled with the idea of whether or not I should tell her, but it's not like it was really a sensitive issue for me. If anything, I just didn't want to freak her out. "He, uh…well, you know how I told you he got himself in some trouble with some mobsters?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, turns out he owes some big boss two-thousand dollars." Bee's eyes went wide, and I knew it was a big deal if that sounded like a lot of money to someone like her. "And he threw them off his trail for a while, but I don't know what they told him out there cuz I guess he freaked and took the coward's way out."

"So…he killed himself," Bee figured softly.

"Yeah," I sighed. "Leavin' it all up to us up here to clean up his goddamn mess."

"You said you got your arm from him. You mean, he taught you?"

I nodded. "Taught me everything I know about the game," I said, proud even though he would always be a part of it. Would be the reason _why_. "Why?"

Bee shrugged. "No reason."

Maybe, but it gave me an idea.

"One last stop?" I offered. She raised a perfect brow.

"Where?"

"Well – I lied. Two stops. I gotta get somethin' from my place, and then we'll go to the _real_ last stop."

"Whaddyah gotta get?"

When I came outta my place a few minutes later with a baseball bat, her eyes went wide.

XXXXX

"Hips then hands, honey."

Standing behind her, my arms wrapped around hers to help her guide the bat; the only sounds we heard was the kid feeding balls into the pitching machine, and that ancient crack of wood against white leather.

"I feel stupid," she mumbled.

"Don't," I said simply. "No one here cares. 'Sides – with my help, you're hitting all of these!"

We moved together as the next ball came at us, flying over Crutchfield Park. The kid tilted his head up and watched it fly. It was all coming back easy to me, and I felt a funny sense of pride as the kid turned back to us, impressed, and yelled, "I ain't gettin' that!"

XXXXX

We both had stupid smiles on our faces when I pulled up to her house.

"Wasn't expecting that," she murmured. "This whole day, really."

"Well, I didn't know I was gonna drag you out there."

She smiled at me. "Not what I meant. I mean…yeah, can't say I saw myself hitting a baseball for the first time ever when I woke up this morning, but…" She trailed off for a second like she was trying to figure out what to say. "It was good. All of it."

I think we shared what you call a _significant look_. I knew what she was getting at. Spilling our guts. A lotta tears on her side. I think this was a whole new level of understanding. We didn't even have to talk about Dallas and Vickie. And I didn't think of them until just now. Just her and me. I wanted to tell her then that I loved her. It felt like the right time. But something stopped me. "You really had a nice time?" I asked, because I really cared.

"I really did," she whispered.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Bee blushed, which made me smile. "Can I see you again some time?" I asked, pretending to be serious but the smile in my voice. Bee turned her head so we were nose-to-nose.

"Of course," she said softly. "You know you don't have to ask."

"It was a joke, honey."

"Oh, was it?"

She raised an eyebrow, and I scoffed. "Good one. Night, Bridget."

"Good night, Two-Bit."

XXXXX

"I'm _bored_ , Keith."

"How could you possibly be bored? There's a whole wide world out there, Sadie, just waiting for you."

When I grinned at her, she just rolled her eyes. I'm _nine_ ," she said, exasperated. "You don't let me _go_ anywhere."

"Well, that's because nobody trusts you yet."

Sadie huffed and crossed her arms. She'd been pretty horrible to deal with since she'd found out our father had died, and I guess I understood. She was confused, and hell, so was I. But that didn't mean I wanted to put up with her attitude. I was in charge with Mom gone to take care of all the legal and, we'll say _post-mortem_ stuff with our father, and I'd had a bit more of Sadie lately than I could handle.

"Can't we go driving or something?" She asked.

"Nup. Need new brake pads."

Sadie scuffed her shoe against the floor. "Your truck's a piece of junk."

"Sure is." I sighed. "Listen, girly-girl. You're a smart kid. You could figure something out to do with yourself. Don't tell me Mom's got somethin' to do for you every minute you're outta school."

"She don't," Sadie admitted. "But Janie's out to see her grandmother this weekend, and…"

"Look through the junk in the closet. Maybe you'll find somethin' in there."

Sadie huffed again, but then she left me alone and started rummaging through the closet, tossing aside old coats and board games and other stuff we didn't bother with anymore. Un _til_ –

"Keith? Who's is this?"

Sadie walked over to me and held up an old baseball glove, and I smirked. I grabbed it from her and put my left hand inside. It still fit pretty well. Man, did this bring back memories. Of little league, of being Darry's catcher, of dusty ball diamonds and spring and summer heat. The glove had a musty smell to it, and was well-used. Hadn't worn this thing since freshman year.

"This was mine," I told her. "From back when I played ball."

Sadie came closer to inspect. I held out my gloved hand so she could get a better look at it. "I kinda remember that. That was a few years ago now."

I nodded. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"Were you any good?"

I laughed. "Was I any _good?_ Girly, I was the best catcher in all of Tulsa, believe it or not."

"You're not braggin'?"

"Nope. Too bad you don't remember. But you were so little then. Feels like ages ago now."

Sadie looked skeptical. "If you were so good, then why'd ya quit?"

I sighed. "It's…complicated. Woulda cost Mom more money than we could afford. And some of the guys were di – _jerks_ , so. Yeah. Hey – you still bored." Sadie shot me a _well, duh_ look. "Come with me, kiddo. There should be another glove and a ball in there. Grab 'em and follow me."

"Girls don't play baseball," she told me once we were out in the yard. I snorted.

"Well, you ain't playin' baseball. You're playin' _catch_. There's a difference. And so what? It's fun – you'll like it."

"If you say so. It better be!"

"It _is_. Stop bein' so difficult." I walked a few paces away from her. "Alright," I began, crouching down into position. It felt familiar, and this way, I was more on Sadie's level. "This first time, just try to get it to me."

The first couple throws were a bit rough, but then she got the hang of it. We got into a rhythm, just like I would've with Darry or any of the other guys. We didn't say much, except when I gave her some tips. Eventually, we moved further and further apart until we were throwing all the way across the lawn.

"Where'd you learn all this?"

The words felt a bit funny coming out of my mouth, but it also felt kinda good to tell her the truth. "Dad taught me, when I was a kid. A little younger than you are now. He used to play baseball. He wanted to become a big-time ballplayer. It never happened for him, but he was good enough to teach me a few things. Guess that's where I got my arm. Then I started playin' little league, and me and Darry sorta became a team. Got even better there. The rest is history, ya know?"

"You said you quit because of the money, and the other guys," Sadie whispered. "It wasn't _really_ because of _daddy_ , was it? He didn't ruin it for ya or nothin', did he?"

I huffed a laugh. "No, he didn't. And he never will. I mean…yeah, he'll always be part of it. But he ain't the reason I loved it." Thinking back on it, I don't think my old man ever saw me play in a game. Which is a damn shame. He missed out on some pretty good baseball. "Ya know, you don't owe him anything, Sadie. Not a thing." She nodded. "I mean that."

"I know."

"Do you?"

She hesitated, but then she nodded. "I do, Keith," she said quietly, and then flung her arms around my waist.

XXXXX

"Vickie _knows_."

Monday morning, and already there's trouble.

"Knows what?"

"About…I don't know! Us? I don't know how to put it. She left a note in my locker, and that's what it said. But you know what I mean! She _knows_."

I leaned forward across the desk, noticing the funny looks Jimmy was giving us. "What're we gonna do, then?"

Bee sighed. "I think I know."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you now."

I smirked. "Well, then. Don't screw us over, Miz Bee."

She rolled her eyes. There's my girl.

XXXXX

 **AN: Hope that wasn't too long! I don't know, I just kept going with this one. It just…I don't know. It's been waiting for so long to be published. And a day earlier than usual!**

 **Hope you guys enjoyed! If you did, be sure to let me know your thoughts :) No need to be shy – I don't bite.**


	21. The World Was Sweeter Than We Knew

**Author's Note: I was worried I wasn't going to get this out in time for the Wednesday update, but here it is! This is more fun than writing college essays, anyway.**

 **We're like…creeping to the end here, guys. We have five chapters after this, one of which is the epilogue. It's crept up on me!**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"Thanks for meeting with me, fellas."

Tim was sitting in his makeshift office in the back of Buck's. He'd called the five of us in for some mysterious meeting. Even Pony, who didn't look right in this room full of thugs. Once upon a time, this kid wouldn't've been allowed within a hundred feet of this place. Nowadays, with him hanging around Curly, things are…different. And this whole situation felt too similar to how it did back in the fall, when it was just me and him in here.

"Ya know," Steve sighed, sitting across from Tim, "you ain't Fat Tony. So you can shove this act up your ass."

Tim briefly looked my way before speaking to this. "Funny you should bring that up, Randle. Cuz it seems this wop – "Tim pointed to me – "has attracted a mobster."

"That's old news," Soda drawled, waving him off. Darry was hovering dangerously in the corner, and Ponyboy was just…hovering. "Where've you been, Shepard? Mars? If you'd paid attention, you'd'a known what was up."

"That so?" Tim asked sarcastically, lighting up a cigarette. "Well, I guess the papers haven't mentioned it, and I guess I can't trust y'all to keep me up-to-date on this sort of thing," he spat, sparing me a glance. "This sorta shit affects all of us."

"How so?" Darry asked. "What – he's come after you?"

"No." He blew a perfect smoke ring. "At least, not yet. But the longer he stays in town, the more at-risk we all are. So – what're you gonna do about it, Mathews?"

I pulled up a chair and lounged next to Steve. "Oh, I dunno. Two-thousand dollars ain't just gonna fall into my lap now, is it?"

"It most certainly is not," Tim drawled. "And I ain't giving you any of my money, that's for damn sure. So – why's he down here?"

"Because of my old man. That's him who owes them the money."

"So why don't he take care of it?"

I huffed a laugh. "'Cause I suspect he's in the seventh circle of hell just about now, or somewhere near it."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Dead?"

I smirked. "As a doornail."

"Condolences."

I shook my head. "You don't mean that. Shove it up your ass, Timmy." He scowled at the old nickname. "Look – we don't owe you anything. Y'all can watch your own asses just fine, and you know it. This was a goddamn waste of time." I stood up fast, making the chair wobble and almost fall over. You're on your own."

I turned to leave, but Darry put a hand on my shoulder and kept me back. "These guys are allies," I hissed in my ear. "What are you _doing?"_

"Standin' up to Tim fucking Shepard. Don't tell me you're too pussy to do the same."

Darry's face was a mix of anger and confusion, and in the smokiness of that dark room, the yellow light cast across his face, he looked about ready to go off. Like he was gonna pull out a tommy gun (but from _where?_ Underneath that skin-tight shirt?) and mow everybody down. But not really. He didn't let go of me, and he didn't stop looking at me, but he said, "Two-Bit's right. This ain't none of your business, Tim. It's personal."

" _Darry…_ " Pony pleaded, like he was really scared, and hell – I kinda was, too, for some reason – but Darry stood his ground. And by the way Soda and Steve were starting to creep towards the door, I knew they had our backs, too. And I knew Pony would follow us, no question.

"Dumbass move, Curtis," Tim called, and a couple of his guys stood like they were gettin' ready for a fight. "I'll take care of him myself."

"Ain't your fight, Shepard. Stay the fuck outta it – this is a family matter."

I wondered if he was speaking on _my_ family's behalf, or if he meant something more by it, but he just let go of my shirt and stomped out, and the rest of us followed him. We walked out of there, all of us in a huff because like I've said a million times – Tim Shepard is a fuck. Who does he think he is, bossing us around like that? Tim's a nobody, really, trying to be somebody. But he sure does a convincing job of it.

"You ain't listenin' to him, are you?" Pony asked me, referring to Tim. "He's just an ass."

"I know, kid," I sighed. "Don't worry about me."

"Yeah, well, we need to worry about this, now that Shepard's stuck his nose into it," Steve grumbled. "This is personal business, is it not?"

" _Is it not?_ Man, who _are_ you? Shakespeare?"

"Shuddup, Sodapop. But I'm right, ain't I?"

"Yeah, you're right," Darry spoke up. "Tim doesn't like outsiders in his turf, that's for damn sure. But this ain't Two-Bit's fault, is what he ain't getting."

"So you think he's gonna go after him?" Soda asked. Darry snorted.

" _Hell_ no. Tim's got a lousy poker face. He's scared shitless."

I narrowed my eyebrows and held out my hand against Darry's chest to get him to stop walking. And when we stopped, the rest of the gang stopped. "Say that again," I said.

"He's scared shitless…?"

"No," I shook my head. "The other part."

"That he's got a lousy poker face?"

"Yeah! That."

"Why? What's that got to do with anything?"

I grinned, and I was certain it was about to split my face in half. "Darry Curtis, I think I just found the solution to our problems."

XXXXX

"Bridget!"

When she turned and saw my truck, she instantly lie up and made her way over to me. I smiled back at her. "Hey, Two-Bit! What's up?"

"Let's go driving."

Bee cocked her head. "What, right now?"

"Yes, right now."

"…why?"

"I need to hear about this idea of yours. I wanna help you, Bridget."

She turned a bit pale. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have homework," she lied.

"Is it due tomorrow?"

"Well, _no_ -"

"Then you ain't got homework! C'mon now."

"Just let me call my dad. Lemme call him."

"Fine, then. I'll drive ya to a phone." So we drove to the DX, and I dropped her off and idled out front while I waited for her. Not a minute later, Sodapop comes outside. "Man, what're you _doin'_ , leavin' your station like this? Tsk, tsk, Sodapop Patrick."

"Funny. Say – what're you doin' here? You're just sittin' out here."

"That I am. You've got good eyes there, Soda."

"Again – _funny_. Seriously, man, what's up? Bee Stevens just bolted in there askin' to use the phone, and you're the only car out here." Speak of the devil, Bee came out right at that moment, looking a bit frazzled. Her steps slowed when she saw Sodapop looking between me and her. "Where's your car, Bridget?" Soda asked, all confused.

"She's ridin' with me," I finally answered, then opened her door so she could climb on in.

Sodapop looked beyond himself. He looked confused, and he was staring at me like I was a Martian or something. I knew Steve was on to me. I shoulda figured he'd tell Soda everything. "What's goin' on?" Soda asked. "Two-Bit, what's going on, huh? Somethin' I should know about?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, silently asking _What the fuck, man? What aren't you telling us? Seriously – what the fuck? Why is this chick riding with you?_

"It ain't like _that_ , Soda! It ain't _nothin'_!"

Bee leaned across me and looked and Soda real sorry-like. "I'll tell you later, Sodapop," she promised. And suddenly, I remembered. All the little things Soda had said about her. About how they'd danced together at that party. But the way he was looking at her then – it wasn't the way he'd looked at Sandy. No, this was different. "It'll all make sense later."

Sodapop stared at me a second longer. I stared right back at 'im. "Steve was right," he whispered, and I think I could see the ghost of a smile on his face. Not wanting to deal with that shit, I sped off, not responding, and noticing Bee looking glumly in the rearview mirror.

"What is it?" I asked.

"He might know," she sighed. "Like Vickie knows."

Might? He _did_. I was pretty certain of that now. "Speakin' of Vickie – you need to tell me, as you put it, _everything_ , Bridget."

"Everything," she repeated. "Where should I start?" she asked, laughing nervously. It seemed obvious to me.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?"

"You sure you wanna hear it?"

"Sure am. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just awfully long. Do we have the time?"

I gestured to the road ahead of us. We could've kept driving forever, leave this all behind. But that probably wasn't the best idea. "Plenty of places to drive, Miz Bee."

"Okay, then. I'll tell you."

"Spill it then, sister."

Turns out, she was right – the whole thing was awful long. It was everything with her father – quitting his job, moving them out here – and that first day of school, when she met me and Missy Redar and Cherry Valance and – _ugh –_ Vickie Harper. Being told she was better and getting all confused by this whole rivalry down here when in the _past_ , she didn't even get _noticed_. Screwing around with Evie. Meeting Jerry. Going to that party at the river bottom, and then getting together with him at the party. I'm sure she'd tell it all better, and I'll let her, but _jeez._

"It's all downhill from there."

"Why's that?"

"Ya know, after that party at Vickie's, I think that's when everything went to shit. That's when your friend Johnny killed Bob, then Dallas and Johnny died. Remember when you got into that fight?"

"Which _one?"_

"The one where I was present."

"Oh," I mumbled, remembering pinning Matt Watson's body to the lockers, her and her friends looking on. "I do. Why?"

"I could've sworn you were gonna hate me after I ratted you out."

I shook my head. "You still don't quite get it, do you? I could never really _hate_ you, Bridget. And shoot - I was askin' for it. You did what you thought you had to do."

"But what about what you said? About what you were gonna do with me, how you didn't know? What about _that?"_

Well, I couldn't exactly say I _remembered_ that. "I dunno. I don't really remember saying that anyhow. Anyways, keep talkin'. What else has caused this shitstorm?"

"Two-Bit."

"What?"

"I don't think you really want to know that."

"I think I do," I sang. "C'mon – what's so bad that you're afraid of tellin' me?"

I wish I could've seen her face, because I would bet good money that she was biting down on her lip and pulling gently at her hair, unfurling one of those curls and letting it bounce back. "Two-Bit, I think…I think a lot of this happened because of you," she whispered. "I wouldn't have gotten into this mess if I hadn't…if you and _I_ …"

"Because of me, huh?" I wondered, cutting her off. I didn't want to let her finish that, afraid of what she'd say.

"Yeah. Because of you."

"So you're in this little romantic bind because of me?" I asked, finally turning to look at her for a moment. She shrugged.

"I suppose it may be. And me, too. And Jerry. Just because he's…him. And me, because I decided to spend all my time with you, basically. And you, because you're _you_ , too."

"Well, gee."

"I know."

"It's not your _fault_. This isn't about fault. It's about…well, it's about chance, isn't it?" She wondered, and I remembered that conversation. Chance. Faith. I knew what she was trying to say. "I want you to know that."

"I know," I said, and I did. "Hell, none of this would've happened if…ya know, if I hadn't…you know what I'm trying to say."

"I do. I know. But, Two-Bit, I really need you to _understand_. You didn't do anything wrong. _I_ did. I'm the one who's with Jerry…or, maybe Vickie pushed me into that. Nice as he is, I…given the choice between you and him…"

"I get it. And knowing her, she prolly did push you two together. That's what she does, Honey Bee. That's her game. She was workin' at you from day one, kid."

And wasn't that the awful truth. Bridget Stevens was a bit…malleable. And I hated the thought of someone taking advantage of that.

"Remember how I told you I had an idea on how to get back at Vickie?" she asked.

"Mhm."

"I'm not gonna tell you what it is."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I won't tell you. Because I don't care anymore. I don't care if people know about you and me. Maybe I even want it."

"Well, Jesus. Then I guess this was just honesty hour then, huh?"

"Guess so."

I found that I had driven us in a huge loop around Tulsa just for us to end up back at the high school. Figures. "Let's hop out."

"Okay."

The weather was getting warmer again, and that was a welcome change. It'd been a brutal winter, in more ways than one. We walked around front, to the front steps, and Bee grabbed my hand. I grinned down at her.

"Thank you, Miz Bee."

"For what?"

"For coming here."

She couldn't look at me when she said, "You're welcome. I, uh – knowing you, has made it better. So – thank you for that."

"Really?" I asked, teasing. "I thought I made your life a living hell, or some shit."

"Sometimes," she laughed. "But, these days, more often than not…" she trailed off and shrugged. "I'm glad I met you, is what I'm trying to say." She was swinging our arms back and forth, and it was just another thing that was so un-Kathy-like that it made my heart ache. Bridget was a real genuine person, more so than I could ever be. "Do you remember when Jimmy told me you hated me?" She asked, out of the blue.

"Yeah," I drawled. "I do."

"Did you ever wonder why Jimmy wasn't in class for a while after that?"

I stopped dead in my tracks. That was so long ago. That was _forever_ ago. _George Washington_ was alive when that happened. That was a whole different Two-Bit Mathews that beat that little shit up. One that didn't know he was falling ass-over-teakettle for a girl way out of his league yet. One that took his buddies and just about everything and everyone for granted. Funny, how long nine months can feel.

"About that, uh...I've got some secrets of my own, ya know," I stammered, and Bee's eyebrows shot up.

"Like what?"

I gestured for her to sit down. So she sat. On the front steps of Will Rogers High School. Of all places. And I paced back and forth in front of her. I didn't know what to say. What would this chick do when I told her Steve Randle and I _pounded_ Jimmy Hopper's head in because of what he did to her in front of the whole class? Because he made her cry. Because no matter what she tries to tell you, Bee Stevens is a big ol' softy who don't belong in a world like ours – the one she'd been dropped into. She wasn't made for all of this back and forth, this dog-eat-dog world. Not that she hasn't tried – and really, she's kept her chin up pretty damn high through all this.

She's an impressive gal.

I sat down on the step below her. "I didn't wanna tell you. I can take care of things."

"I know you can," she said slowly, agreeing, I guess. "So?"

" _So_ ," I drawled, "I took care of him."

Her face went a bit slack. Oh, _man_. All these months of trying to get her to see me as a decent guy, and now this. But I couldn't lie to her. "You mean...Two-Bit, what did you do?" she whispered, looking a bit scared. I couldn't help the long, hard stare I gave her. It wasn't her fault. It was almost nineteen years of shit like this. And it was a whole city's-worth of troubles being heaped upon her shoulders.

"Bridget," I sighed, "I beat him up, okay? I found him later that night, and I _whaled_ on him. He couldn't see outta his left eye for a week. _That's_ what I did."

She didn't speak for a few minutes. It was the longest few minutes between us that I've experienced _since_ that incident with Jimmy. She just stared off across the parking lot, working her jaw. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but I figured that doing that might just piss her off.

"Why?" she finally whispered. "Why did you do that?"

I could only shrug. "He deserved it. I ain't never heard a guy talk that lousy to a broad. I mean... a gal shouldn't hafta put up with that, 'specially in front of a bunch of people."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I-I dunno...it just wasn't somethin' you needed to know about." It wasn't something I had wanted her to know about, either.

Her lips were twisting in a small smile. "Thank you, Two-Bit," she murmured, surprising me completely. _Thank you?_ "You really don't understand...I mean, you really don't." She took a deep breath. "You never will understand how much I appreciate this. _Seriously_."

But I think I was starting to understand. The way her eyes had misted over; how genuinely glad she was I had done it. I've said before that Bee doesn't seem as if she's always had people exactly treating her kindly. Hell, she told me that day in my truck. She told me without having to say much more other than Bob Sheldon hadn't ever been very nice to her. Or when she blushed as deeply as she did whenever anybody flirted with her. Why she was clinging to her status. I don't understand why, and I don't think I ever will, but I get the impression that Bridget Stevens hasn't had an easy go of it. In her own way. It makes absolutely no sense to me because in my eyes, she's perfect. But I guess some people see her – her kinky hair, her intimidated eyes, the way she holds her tiny, willowy body – and sees somebody who's easy to pick on. Screw that. I'd fight everybody in the great state of Oklahoma to protect her from shit like that.

"No problem, Miz Bee," I said simply. "I figger I owed you one anyways."

And then it was quiet again. A car drove by every now and then. There was a breeze kicking up. We didn't look at each other, just sat there together.

"Well," she eventually sighed, breaking the long silence. "Thanks again, Two-Bit. It really means a lot."

A second later, I felt her press her lips to my cheek, linger for a second, then pull away. Nothing special, really. But suddenly, it felt wrong. Not because I didn't like her, didn't _want_ her doing that. But like I said – I don't want anyone to hurt her. And that includes me. I don't get it, either, alright? So don't look at me like that. I know, I know: one day, I want her, the next day, I still want her – but I _need_ her to keep away from me. And this felt like she was giving in. I shook my head.

"Don't do that," I whispered. "Don't ever...I just…I couldn't..." I shot back up and whipped around to face her. "Don't ever do that again, Stevens," I warned, giving her no further explanation as she stared up at me, gaping.

"Why can't I?" she asked, sounding disappointed and sorry. Like she thought she'd done something wrong. She hadn't. She _hadn't_. She was doing everything right, and the closer we got…I could only wordlessly shake my head again. She couldn't get caught up with me. She couldn't. Not when mobsters show up at my door and Tim Shepard rides my ass and I get in fights and drink and am marked to end up just like my old man. She deserves more than that. "So you can kiss me, but I can't kiss you?" she asked, getting defiant.

"You don't _understand_ -"

"Alright!" she barked. "I won't kiss you ever again! _Ever!_ Which means you can't go kissing me, either, and I mean it. I don't want you kissing me."

"Bridget," I sighed. "No. Can't I explain myself?" I asked, trying to laugh it off. "I need you to _listen to me –"_

"You lead me on," she seethed, fists clenched and resting on her thighs.

"What? No! I didn't _lead you on_. Why would I do that?" Seriously – why on earth would I do that? Are you seeing something I'm not? I mean, _yeah_ , like I said, some days I want her and some days I know I don't deserve her, but that don't mean I never wanted her to know how I felt.

"Because you're a tool," she spat.

"I ain't a tool!"

"Yes you _are!"_

"I _ain't!_ " I shouted, and she reared back a bit. I closed my eyes and sighed. "And you wanna know _why?"_

"Why?" she hiccupped, and then all of a sudden, she was crying. Again.

"I ain't a tool," I whispered, but that didn't sound very convincing, so I started again. "I ain't a tool because of that day. That day I gave you a ride home from the game. Remember?"

She sniffled, rubbing her arms like she was cold, and nodded. "Yeah, I remember," she whispered. "What does that got to do with any of it?"

I sat down again, but a bit further away than before so she could have some space. "It has everythin' to do with it. I wouldn't'a let you in my car if I didn't like you. Hell, I wouldn't've even stopped to convince you to even get in. If I didn't like ya, I woulda just let you walk your sorry ass home. And all those other times, too."

"That still doesn't explain anything," she grumbled, not looking at me but scratching her fingernails over the warmish concrete.

"What don't it explain?"

She looked at me. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her eyes were red. And I felt sorry for making her cry. Because this time was all on me, unlike the other day. I didn't want to make her cry. "It still doesn't explain why you don't want me kissing you."

"I don't want you kissin' me because I couldn't...what would _happen_ to you, Jesus, Bee. I couldn't let it happen."

"What would happen?"

"You know what would happen. You know. You _know_ that you'd become an outcast. If you and me became an item. You've got a good thing goin', peach. Kissin' me means you gave in, that you feel the same way. And I can't let that happen. And that's why."

"But you wanted me to know how you feel," she whispered, like it was all starting to dawn on her. "That…you wouldn't have done all of this. If you hadn't wanted me to know."

"You're right," I conceded. "I wouldn't've. But now…I don't know, Bee. I don't want to hurt you."

"Well. Then you're singin' a very different song than you were in the fall."

I could only smile at her. "So're you."

"I am." There was a soft smile on her face. "Hey - Two-Bit?"

"What?"

"We're alone now, ya know. Nobody would know, so…could you...could _I_ …?"

Bridget was nervous and blushing, but this time, it wasn't because she was upset. Naw. I knew what this was. This was the look of a girl who was head-over-heels. Last time I saw that look on her, it had all been for _Jerry_ _Thompson_. Not this time. "Yeah," I drawled, knowing what she was getting at. "Ya could."

She wasn't even shy about it. She just wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her and kissed me like it was the last thing she was ever going to do. A desperate, teeth-gnashing, take-your-breath-away kiss, like it was the last chance she'd ever get. Like I wasn't the second boy in her entire life that she'd kissed. When she broke away so we could come up for air and rested her forehead against mine, I could feel myself grinning like an idiot. Because I couldn't help it.

"Kiss your boyfriend like that?" I asked, breathing heavy. She laughed.

"No."

"Good."

Bee rested her head against my shoulder. "Jerry," she breathed. "Poor guy. Couldn't hold a candle to you."

I snorted and smoothed her hair back. "Aw, give the guy a break. It ain't his fault that he is the way he is."

"I know," she breathed. "And I…I couldn't have known."

"Couldn't've known what?"

Bee looked up at me and smiled. "I couldn't've known that any of this would happen." She shrugged. "Even if I wanted it to."

"You did?"

"I think so," she said, detaching herself from me some. "Now that I think about it. Yeah."

Huh. Whuddyah know. "Then what were we waitin' for?"

"I dunno. Like I said – we didn't know. We didn't know anything that happened this year would happened. Maybe all of it had to happen first for us to get here."

I stared at her. Bee looked pretty proud for coming up with that theory. This was a girl that was worried with existing and being able to see the stars and -if you're gonna believe the gossip – apparently reads both Time _and_ Vogue. Can't say I ever believed I knew what I was getting into with her. "Ya know, I'd ask you to prom, but you already got a date," I joked, completely changing the subject.

Bee laughed. "Yeah, right. I know prom's not exactly your _thing_." She sobered. "I wanna make something real clear, Two-Bit."

"'Course."

"Jerry's a _good_ guy," she said softly. "I want you to know that. Even after all of this. It's not like I was aiming to break his heart – it's just that it ended up that we weren't right, not really. I'm sure I could pretend with him for a long time, maybe even be happy, but that wouldn't be right. Because it wouldn't be honest. And I'm sick and tired of lying, Two-Bit."

"I know you are," I whispered. "So – don't."

"I don't want to," Bee sighed. "Speaking of which – this thing, with Vickie."

I bit back a groan. "What about it?"

"I…I had a horrible idea. When she slipped me that note, about her knowing. I know I could absolutely _ruin_ her, Two-Bit. I could. If the school were to find out. I don't even know how she figured it out, about us. But she _did_ , and…"

"Lemme guess," I drawled. "You were gonna spill her secret at prom."

Bee nodded guiltily. "Yeah. But that was…that was when I was angrier about it than I am _now…_ "

"Why _aren't_ you angry now?"

"Because I don't care," she whispered. "I don't. If she tells, so what? I mean, I'll have to take care of the thing with Jerry…but I dunno. I don't know anymore, Two-Bit."

"We'll figure somethin' out. We always do."

"Who's _we?_ " She asked. "The only thing you and I have ever figured out is that Dallas lied to you about where your buddies were, and that Vickie Harper is a grade-A asshole."

I threw my head back and laughed. "Yeah, that's true enough. But I could take the heat for this, Bee. I'd do that. I could carry this out for you."

Bee's eyes went wide as saucers. "Two-Bit," she said lowly, "you _wouldn't._ "

"I would," I contradicted. "Bee, she's aimin' to make our lives miserable. And she ain't a good person. You don't deserve what she's gonna do to you."

"And that means she _does?"_

I leaned forward. "Bee." She looked at me straight-on. I think she could tell by my tone that I meant business. "I know a thing or two about payback. Believe me. I know who deserves it and who doesn't."

" _Two-Bit_."

"And Vickie Harper's had it comin' for a _long_ time."

She shook her head. "All of this is so wrong. What I've done – lying to Jerry, to everybody, to _you_ – it's _wrong_. I'm a terrible person – "

"No, you're not," I insisted. "You're not. Like you said – you never knew any of this was gonna happen. The heart wants what it wants, Honey Bee."

Man, if looks could kill. "Stop it. I'm serious! Everything we're doing and _saying – "_

"Bee!" Again, she reared back a bit. I felt bad about all the yelling, but once she gets going, it's hard to stop her. "I don't want _Vickie Harper_ of all the damn people on the planet to make your life any harder. So if she tries to bring you down with her, I'm gonna stop it. Got it?" Bee nodded. "And another thing – if you're so worried about Thompson? Break up with him. You said yourself, you don't really know if you wanna be with him anymore, right?" Another nod. "Then do us both a favor, okay? If he's not who you wanna be with, _then don't be with him_. It's that simple. If he don't make you happy…" I trailed off, thinking, of all the people in the world, of Kathy. How it should've come to me sooner that if she didn't make me happy, I should've broken it off with her sooner. Saved us both a lot of misery. "Learn from me, okay?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'll tell you another time." I stood up, knowing there _would_ be another time. "Honey. You're a big girl. And you ain't stupid – in fact, you're the exact opposite. For your own sake, you need to do what's right for _you_. And I think you can find a way to do that without hurtin' anybody else. Now, c'mon – let's get you home."

XXXXX

I whistled low. "Lookit you, Stevie-boy. Shoulda brought my camera!"

"Shuddup, Two-Bit."

"Don't worry, y'all – I got mine!" Soda crowed, waving the Curtis's camera in the air and grinning like a madman. "I'd like a few singles, of just you, to send to the relatives. Then we'll get some of you and Evie to frame."

"I hate you," Steve spat, but there wasn't much venom to it. "Don't you got anythin' better to do than take pictures of me?"

"Not really. Now shut up and smile."

I snickered as Steve just scowled at Soda and his camera, Evie watching on in amusement, letting Soda have his fun and forcing Steve to pull the stick out of his ass for two minutes. I wandered back to the kitchen to where Pony was sitting, reading one of his books.

"Hey, Ponykid."

"Hey, Two-Bit."

"Got any wild plans for tonight? Mr. Curly Shepard gonna come callin'?"

Pony grunted. "I don't think so. Maybe. I dunno."

I sat across from him. The kid was aimless. Still. I know it hadn't been that long – not even half a year. But, hell – none of us were quite there yet. Case in point: with Darry working the late shift tonight, there was only four of us here. With Steve about to leave, that would leave the three of us. It was to quiet these days. "We could go out and do somethin'," I offered. When Pony just shrugged, I said, "Or, ya know, you could read. That's, uh, that's always an option."

"Can't read if I'm talkin' to you."

"Talkin' to _me?_ Kid, you've barely said a word."

"Alright, then."

Clearly, he wasn't in the mood, so I sighed and sat back. Soda wasn't going anywhere tonight, not with Steve going out with Evie. Darry and Pony were out. And it's not like prom's really my thing. And it wasn't like I had Bee or Kathy as options.

But there was the whole nuclear option. Blow the whole operation up and spill everything about Vickie and Dallas. Dally was a buddy. But he wasn't a problem anymore. If he _were_ here, I don't know what he'd make of all this. I don't know if he'd think I was fucked up for falling for Bridget, or if he'd, in his own way, understand. So the more I sat there, the more I was convinced that there was no way in hell that I was gonna let Vickie Harper get away with this. I knew what she'd do. She'd use tonight as an opportunity to ruin Bridget's rep, hell – her _life_. Take away everything from her in one fell-swoop.

But not if I had anything to do with it.

"I'm going to prom."

Pony's head snapped up. " _What?_ You're _what?"_

"I'm going to prom," I laughed, like it was just that simple.

The kid tried to cock an eyebrow, still not quite getting the hang of the trick. "Whaddya mean, _you're going to prom?_ You and Kathy are on the outs, and it ain't exactly your _scene_."

"Well. I'm not exactly going to prom, per se. More like...crashin' it."

"You're _not_ ," Ponyboy said. "Two-Bit, _why?_ Why ruin it for everyone who actually _wants_ to go?"

"It ain't gonna get ruined," I insisted. "I swear on my father's grave."

" _Jesus_ , Two-Bit."

"Yeah, yeah. Now listen - ain't nothin' gonna happen to anybody."

Ponyboy put his head in his hands. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are...will this...will something happen to you, is what I'm getting at."

"Nothin' that I can't handle, Pony. I'm a big boy, ain't I?"

The line got a weak laugh out of him. "I guess so. I mean, if you went by size. Lookit those shoulders you got." I shrugged said shoulders up and down, and yeah – I guess you could say they were sorta impressive. "Promise you'll tell me how it goes?"

"Promise," I said solemnly. "Scout's honor."

"You ain't no _Boy Scout_. So I guess this is the next best thing."

And then the kid stuck out his pinkie, like he was seven years old and there was no oath more sacred than this one. I smiled to myself and wrapped my finger around his. Kid was bony.

"I'm off!" I announced to the room, Sodapop giving me a funny look as I waltzed out the door.

"Good luck!" Pony called, and I could faintly hear Sodapop asking him what the hell I needed the good luck _for_.

XXXXX

Look – we've still got a lot of bases to cover. Just because I ruined Vickie Harper's reputation all in one night don't mean we're out of the woods yet. But it's like I told Darry – I think I've found the solution to all of our problems.

Well – at least, _one_ of them. Allow me to explain.

XXXXX

 **AN: Fat Tony was a real guy, not just a character from** ** _The_** ** _Simpsons,_** **and he was active in the sixties. And "wop" is a slur for "Italian." Of course, the use of it in this story does not reflect my own feelings.**

 **Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed or have thoughts, be sure to let me know!**


	22. Sins of the Saints

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Next chapter. I'd like to take this chance to once again thank you all for your continued support!**

 **Also – change of plans. Instead of there being twenty-six chapters, there's going to be twenty-five. This one was combined with another. Just how things shake out.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

Everything was flipped upside down.

Seriously. All of a sudden, up was down, and down was sideways. Probably not for the first time, but if you'd told me in September that in May I'd be standing by Bee Stevens' locker at the end of the school day, I'd'a told you you were _nuts_. Just my luck that Mr. Jerry Thompson was visiting Oklahoma State that day, or otherwise, I don't think I'd be the one carrying her books.

"Holy _shit_ , Stevens. You takin' home every textbook you got?"

"Finals are coming up," she shrugged. "I want to do well. Don't you?"

My turn to shrug. "I dunno. I'm passin' this year, so might as well."

Bee lifted an eyebrow, looking more amused than impressed. "Nice work. Senior year, here we come."

I rolled my eyes. "It's a bigger deal to _you_ than it is to _me_. But hey – don't wanna make you wait on me." Bee laughed and shut her locker, and then we were off to the parking lot, stopping by her Beetle first so I could dump her books in the back of it. "You free tonight?" I asked her. "We could go do somethin'?"

 _"_ _Sum'in?"_ She repeated, laughing at me. "Have you ever heard yourself talk? You talk like a cowboy or _sum'in_."

"Well, this is Oklahoma," I drawled. "This ain't no big, shiny city, missy-miss. Ain't you seen my boots?"

"'Course I have. They look like a cowboy's boots, too. All scuffed up like that."

"Aw, a real cowboy's boots would be covered in horse shit." She laughed again, turning a bright pink. "Anyways, c'mon. You're done with play practice, let's go do somethin'. Go get dinner."

Bee sighed and said, "I'd love to. But I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because my father…well, he's bringing over a _guest_ for dinner."

"Yeah? Some big-wig prof or something?"

She shook her head. "No. Um…it's a woman. He's been seeing a woman and he wants us to meet," she muttered, looking suddenly downcast.

My eyebrows shot straight up. Huh. My mother didn't exactly date, so I couldn't exactly tell her I got how she felt, but I could tell she wasn't exactly happy about it. I would ask, but she didn't seem in the mood. All I said was, "Oh. Well, another time then?"

That got a smile out of her. "Yeah. Another time. And hey – the play opens _Friday_ night! We run through Sunday. So if you want to catch it, it's at seven each night."

"I'll be there with bells on, kid." I knocked on her hood. "Catch you later, honey."

"See ya, Two-Bit."

She drove off, while I headed over to the stadium, where Ponyboy was sitting on the curb, waiting for me. Something looked a bit off about him, too, as I approached him, but I decided to play it cool – just lit up a cigarette and moseyed on over to him. "Hey, Pony."

"Hey," he sighed.

"Am I late or somethin'?"

Pony shook his head. "Naw, you're right on time. But, uh, _Kathy's_ lookin' for you."

Wait – what? "Kathy," I repeated. "My Kathy, the one I broke up with _months_ ago."

He nodded. "That would be the one."

I sighed. "Is that what you're all in a funk about?"

"Guess so," he shrugged. "She seemed pretty pissed off. Scared the heck outta me, just showing up from around the corner as I was leavin'. She's inside the stadium, by the concession stand."

"She wants to talk to me?" I guessed.

"Yeah. I think you should prolly go take care of that – I'm fine waitin'."

"Alright, kid. I won't be too long. Just wait here."

I left Pony to sit on his curb and found Kathy leaning about against the cinderblock walls, smoking just like I was. She looked good. Her hair wasn't all piled on top of her head like usual, but it was hanging down in tight curls. For once, she sorta looked normal. Almost respectable.

I knew what she was doing.

"Hey, Kath," I greeted.

"Hey," she parroted. "Wanted to talk to you."

I cocked an eyebrow. "I know. Pony told me. Also told me you scared the shit out of him, popping out like that. Kid's jumpy – maybe don't do that, yeah?"

Kathy took a drag off her cigarette and heaved a smoky sigh. "Yeah, alright."

"What'd you wanna talk about?"

"Prom," she said simply.

"You went?" I asked, but Kathy shook her head.

"No, I didn't. But I know people who did," she said, taking a step closer to me. "I heard what you did. Pretty gutsy move."

She had inched pretty close to me, so she was standing only about half a foot away. "Guess so," I drawled. "Why do you care?"

"You're gonna have a big mess to clean up. If Jerry Thompson finds out _why_ you did this, I can't imagine you'll come out unscathed."

"Don't worry about it," I said good-naturedly. "I can take care of myself."

"Right," she breathed, looking up at me and smiling sarcastically. "How can you be sure this won't all backfire on you?"

"Um. I'm not? Kath, I get it. Risky move. But Harper was my problem, and I took care of it. Rep? Ruined. Why do you care?"

"Because you did it for that girl," she whispered bitterly. "Bee Stevens. Why her?"

"Why anybody?" I retorted.

Kathy shook her head. "I shoulda known. Back in – god, _September_."

I remembered. That night at the Dingo, the six of us sitting in that booth, and Bee Stevens comes up all of a sudden. Kathy was right – she should have known then. I thought about the two of them – Bee and Kathy. Kathy was a preacher's daughter. She should've been _good_. But she wasn't, not really. She could pretend. She could hold the collection plate and smile at you with her pearly whites. She could come out here with her hair curled and wearing a dress of a decent length. Kathy knew a lot. She'd seen a lot. Bee…the poor girl always looked as if every situation she'd been thrown in was out of her depths. But she still pulled through. And she cried because she wasn't hard, and she pulled off crazy hair and big eyes because they were all hers – not because someone like Kathy decided that was what I liked and she needed to replicate it. I don't know why she was playing this game, why she was acting like this, cuz she'd already lost.

"You love her, don't you?" Kathy asked.

"I do. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," she said softly. The softest I'd ever heard her voice. "I can only hope you'll do to her what you did to me."

I snorted. "Then you're gonna be hopin' for a long time to come, kid. See ya around, Kathy."

XXXXX

"Hey, Mathews."

I whipped around and saw Tim Shepard lighting a cigarette. In the goddamn men's room. Tim's the kind of fucker who in a row of ten urinals would sidle up to the one right next to you just to piss you off (no pun intended). That, or show up right behind you while you take ten goddamn seconds away from everybody just to get a smoke. Shoulda gone outside. I mean, nobody uses this bathroom, _nobody,_ it's absolutely disgusting, that's why I figgered I could get a few seconds alone in here, but apparently not!

Sorry. I've been kinda tense lately. I don't know if what I did at prom made the situation – whatever it is – better or worse.

"Hey, Tim," I drawled. I sighed and took a drag off my smoke, flicked the ash away. "What's up?"

He took a step _closer_ to me, as if he wasn't already in my personal space. "Word travels fast in these parts. Don't it?" He asked.

"Well, sure, Tim. I s'pose it does."

"And you're a worse gossip than most gals, ain't ya?"

I rolled my eyes. "What's with the third degree, Shepard?"

Tim smiled, and that scar on his cheek wrinkled. I realized, with a sick feeling in my stomach, that I had a scar like that, too, now, from the rumble. It was sorta pink still. I wondered if people saw mine and felt as sick as I do when I see his. If they see it wrinkle up whenever I smile, notice how the skin folds and stretches differently. Wonder why it's there. People know by now where Tim got his. I guess the scar gives me an air of mystery, huh?

"I heard about what happened at prom."

I swallowed. "You did?"

Tim nodded. "I did. Why'd you do it?"

"That ain't none of your business, Tim."

"Then at least tell me I've got the story straight." He started in without me saying anything. "Dally and Vickie Harper, socialite supreme, did the deed, and Harper got knocked up. And then the broad got rid of it. That right?"

"Well…yeah. That's right."

"I mean, I understand. I wouldn't want to get stuck raising Winston's bastard, let alone give birth to him. Kid would prolly come out sideways. But what I _don't_ get is why you told everybody. For you, that's downright evil."

I smirked. "Guess it sorta is. Why do you care why I did it? I ruined that girl's rep. You live for that sort of shit."

"Yeah, but you and I ain't exactly the same." Tim sighed and blew out smoke from his nose. "I'll cut the crap. I think I know why you did it."

My veins turned to ice. "Yeah? Why'd I do it, Shepard?"

Tim looked sorta confused when he asked, "You did it for that girl, didn't you?" His voice was slow, like he didn't understand. "That new girl? With the big hair. I'm sure you know the one I'm talking about."

I could've beat his head in. "Bridget Stevens," I told him, keeping my cool, thankfully. I don't know what was getting me so angry. "And what's between me an' her is none of your business."

"It sorta is. You're a pretty ballsy guy, goin' for a gal like her. So, I know you did it for her. You tryin' to protect her from something?"

I shook my head. "How in the _hell_ did you figure all this out?"

"I have my sources, like you do. And I ain't blind, Mathews. Things have changed. You've changed. _I've_ changed. The whole thing has gotten all mixed up. I'm just surprised that of _all_ people, it was you and Dallas Winston who got mixed up with their girls."

One of _their_ girls. Ah. See, the way I see it, she was mine. And I was hers. And we didn't _belong_ to anybody, not even really each other. "Tim, can I tell you somethin'?"

"'Course."

Considering we were practically face-to-face, I drew myself to full height, reminding him that physically, I was bigger than him. His rep may have been larger than life, but we were one-on-one now. And it wasn't _my_ honor I was trying to protect. " _What's between me and her is none of your business_ ," I repeated. I kept my voice low and slow. "Alright – so I'm seein' Bridget Stevens. So what? You thinkin' this is some sort of _betrayal_ or somethin'? To you? To my buddies?" I laughed. "Cuz it's like I said before, Timmy – you and I ain't _friends_ , so I don't exactly care what you think about who I see. And I know my buddies don't care. Or, they won't, once they know. Time to fucking move on."

Tim looked about ready to pop me in the face. "And it's like _I've_ said before – this is _politics_. What – you think you can just become one of _them_ now? That everything's gonna change because the two of you _like_ each other? Jesus, Mathews, I didn't think you were that _stupid_."

I was seeing red. Fuck this guy. Just…fuck him. "Ya know what? I am trying to protect Stevens. From assholes like you who look at her and only see the surface stuff. I ain't stupid, and I ain't blind. I know what I got in her. So fuck your politics, Tim, cuz I know this ain't gonna change everything. And that's your fault."

That scar on his face wrinkled up when he snarled, too. "Guess you're a poet, too. And a traitor."

Well, I flicked my cigarette in his face and started to turn tail and run because the last thing I needed was an angry Tim Shepard on my ass. _Again._

But you know what? Fuck that. Tim Shepard _does_ have a lousy poker face. I stormed right back into the men's room, where Tim was still standing.

"I have a proposition for you," I told him.

"And just what the hell would that be?"

"Play me."

Tim looked confused. "At _what?"_ He asked slowly.

I grinned. This was the break I'd been waiting for. From the twitching, I could tell he knew what I meant. "There's a room full of guys out there just finishing a hand of poker," I informed him. "And I'd like to play you."

"And why's that?"

"Because I'm gonna get rid of Baronchelli – the mobster? – for you. So play me."

That wasn't the full story. He didn't know that in order for that to happen, Tim would have to follow my lead. And where did I plan to lead him? All the way to him lining my pockets with two-thousand dollars. But he didn't know that was gonna happen. He wouldn't know until it happened. He'll get it back. There're enough druggies in this town. ( _Yeah_ – we all know what Tim does. We know.)

"Fine," he said, blowing out a smoke ring. "I'll play you, Mathews."

It wasn't until well past midnight, my hand laid out in front of his – the hand he'd been so _confident_ in – that he knew. But I'd figured it out much earlier, watching his expressions slip in and out. So maybe baseball and shoplifting aren't my only talents – I can read people pretty well, ya hear?

And yeah, Darry's right – it's nice to have allies when you live in a rough neighborhood like we do. But I can read Tim, and after seeing the dark expression on his face after he'd had to fork over two grand into my hands? It's safe to say that alliance might be over.

XXXXX

"Sweetheart, my prayers have been _answered!_ It is _such_ a good day to be Two-Bit Mathews."

Bee snickered. "Didn't know you were the praying type. What happened?"

"Payed off my father's debts to that bastard Baronchelli. He's on a plane back to Brooklyn. Case closed. _Resolved_."

Her face lit up. "You're serious?"

"Deadly so."

Bee's mouth hung open in surprise. "You're kidding! Two-Bit, that's great!"

I laughed at her excitement. "It sure is." I looked up at the sky. "You know any of 'em?"

She looked up, too. "Know any of what?"

"The constellations, or whatever."

"Oh. A few, I think. I mean, there's the Big Dipper right there."

"No shit. You really are new to these, ain't you?"

She giggled. "Yeah, I am." Bee sighed. "I'm so nervous."

I raised an eyebrow. "'Bout what?" She gave me a wry look. "Oh – right. The play. How come?"

Bee sighed again. "I just haven't done anything like this before. What if I screw up? What if I do what Nancy Lopez did and throw up all over the stage like she did at the talent show?"

"That's…not gonna happen," I said, but now that she mentioned it…well, nobody thought Nancy would puke all over the place, either. "Hey – you're gonna be fine, kid. Quit worrying so much about it. Okay?"

"Okay," she grumbled, jiggling her legs up and down and staring up at the stars from my truck bed. The moonlight made her look like she was glowing, her dark hair blending in with the night. She was so pretty just then that I couldn't resist draping my arm around her waist. Her breathing hitched and she looked back down at me, which was just the opportunity I was looking for. Girl was a good kisser for someone as inexperienced as she was.

"Oh, Bee..." I groaned against her lips. "Honey Bee. Oh, god."

Bee broke away from me so she could look me in the eye. "What? What's wrong?"

I shook my head. "Oh, peach, I dunno if we should be doin' this," he said. "C'mon. C'mon, you already got somebody. C'mon, Bee."

She backed up some. "After everything?" she breathed. "This is it?"

No. No. it wasn't. But she still hadn't broken it off with Jerry. And I don't know what she was waiting on. Hell – I was surprised he hadn't caught on like everybody else had. "This ain't it yet."

"Yet?" she repeated.

"I didn't mean – Bridget, listen, I gotta tell you somethin'…"

I was gonna tell her right then. I know I've said that a million times before, but I really was going to that time. Because I wanted her to know. Just in case. But I couldn't _say_ it, just kept taking drags off my cigarette and repeating her name, _wanting_ to just get it out there.

But she beat me to it.

"I love you," she blurted out.

My cigarette fell from my mouth and onto the concrete. I thought my eyes were about to pop out of my head.

"You _what?"_

"I love you," she repeated, softer, and as if it was actually a question, and not something she ws really certain of.

"Really?"

"Really."

"You're sure?"

She looked like she was fighting real hard not to roll her eyes. " _Yes_ , I'm sure," Bee whispered.

"So you really think you're in love with me, huh?"

Bee nodded, but she looked stiff and like she was gonna ralph all over the place _now_ instead of on stage tomorrow night.

"Y-yeah, Two-Bit. I think... I am." I nodded slowly, letting her talk. "I-I know it sounds odd," she continued. "And I don't really get it either, but I just…I just sorta started feeling that way and I can't help it. I can't, Two-Bit. I just really, _really_ like you."

"Huh," I breathed. "You're serious, ain't you? You really do like me, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm serious," she whispered.

 _Holyfuckingshit._ I couldn't say anything. _She_ couldn't say anything. We just stood there, not saying anything, not moving, just staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. For once, I didn't really know what to say, so I fumbled my way through saying, "Erm...well," I tried to laugh, "the thing is, Bridget, I would say I love you back, but what I'm wondering is..." What? What was it? What was _wrong_ with me? Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I wanted this. So I don't really know why I said what I said next. "I'm wonderin' whether or not you really mean it. I mean, I'm havin' some serious doubts, and I'm sure you can understand why."

She looked like she wanted to either smack me or burst into tears, and I wouldn't've been surprised if she'd done both. But she did neither of them. Just shook herself as if she was just waking up and said, "O-Okay then. Okay. I get it. I...I'm probably too young to know whether or not I love anyone anyways, so..." she shrugged. "I guess I'll see you later."

XXXXX

We couldn't even _look_ at each other the next day.

XXXXX

It was Friday night, the opening night of the play, and I was sitting on the Curtis's couch watching _Dick Van Dyke Show_ reruns. I probably needed to get goin' if I was gonna make it, but I couldn't force myself to get up, figuring she wouldn't want me there, anyways, since I chickened out the other night and made her feel as if she'd made a fool of herself.

She _loved_ me. I should be over the fucking _moon_.

"Man, you're in a _funk_ again. Just when you were startin' to get back to being yourself after all this, now you're all down again. What's up?"

I sighed and looked over at Darry, who was sitting in his – his father's? – chair, reading a magazine. Ooh – _Playboy_.

"I'm okay," I lied.

"Naw. Quit lyin'. Seriously, what's up? I mean, it's been a rough year for all of us, I get it. I mean, with everything that happened last January and in the fall, and with your dad sending that guy down and then killin' himself…I get it man, I do. Just…you seemed good, the past week."

I raised an eyebrow. "Have I really been that bad?"

Darry sighed. "Man, I think we all have. Haven't you seen Pony? I don't know what's up with that kid."

Well, I think he did. I think we all did. Kid had lost his best friend. I don't know what I'd feel if I lost Darry. I'd feel lost too, I think. "I'm sorry, Darry."

"Don't be," he said simply.

Just then, Sodapop and Steve came in from the back porch, looking wild and rearing for a night on the town. I think Pony was back in his room somewhere. The two of them, though – it felt wrong watching them without Dally on their tails, ready to join them. Or Johnny, even.

But… _Dally…_

"I heard something the other day," I spoke up, all three of them turning to look at me. "About Dally."

Steve instantly knew what I was talking about. I could tell. He went white, and sat down hard at the kitchen table. Soda instantly dropped down slowly beside him.

 _"Hey, Stevie!"_

 _Steve snapped his head up, and he and Evie stopped dancing. He gave me a once-over, stopping on Rocky Singer's sports coat – the one I'd forced him to lend me just a few minutes before. "Two-Bit, what the hell are you doing here?" Steve asked. "Don't tell me you came here with Kathy!"_

 _"No, I didn't, Stevie. I'm here on personal business."_

 _Steve just stared at me for a minute, Evie looking back and forth between us. Steve had told me not long ago that he thought he knew what was up, and the way his eyes lit up, I knew his thoughts had been confirmed. He knew. He did._

 _"Oh, god, Two-Bit!" He laughed. "You're kiddin me, ain't you? Ain't you?"_

 _"Do I ever kid around? Look, pal, I gotta get a move on this thing, so know this." I leaned in. "Dallas got Vickie Harper pregnant just before he died, and she got rid of it. Pass it on._ "

Darry was now the one looking between all of us, as he'd shot up and was no bouncing on his heels a bit, arms crossed over his chest with a worried expression on his face. "What is it, man?" He asked me.

"Do…should we get Pony?" Soda asked. Darry shook his head.

"No," he said firmly. "Not…not when we don't know what this is."

"I do," Steve finally said. I keep forgetting how hard he'd taken all this, too. "Tell 'em, Two-Bit. Just do it."

I didn't want to. Mostly, I was just pissed off about having to clean up dead people's messes. Dammit, Dallas. Just one more fucking thing, huh?

"Guys. Dallas knocked Vickie Harper up."

The brothers' eyes went wide, while Steve just watched me sadly because he already knew. Anybody who'd gone to prom knew. Hell, I'm surprised Ponyboy didn't, with the way the rumor mill at our school is.

"He did?" Soda whispered. I could only nod.

"Yeah," I drawled. "He did."

"So – so there's gonna be – "

I shook my head, cutting Soda off. "No. No, there ain't gonna be. Promise."

"Who…who told you?" Darry asked.

"Bridget Stevens."

Steve, again, wasn't surprised. Even though I hadn't told him that part. He'd figured that out, too.

"You're kidding," Soda said. "How…how does she know?"

I shrugged. "She's friends with Vickie. Well – was."

"And she told you?" Darry asked. I nodded.

Everyone got very quiet for a few minutes. The party had been drained out of Sodapop and Steve. I wanted to tell them I was sorry about that. I hadn't meant to do that. But I didn't want to keep carrying this. Didn't want to be responsible for this anymore.

"That's fucked," Soda whispered. "That's really fucked."

I sat up, stood up, and cracked my knuckles. "It sure is. Welp - I have to get goin'," I sighed.

"Why, what's going on?" Steve asked. "You can't just fucking leave right in the middle of this!" I smirked.

"I have to. Play's tonight. _Anything Goes._ Ain't y'all heard of it?"

"Well – yeah," Darry started slowly, "but why are _you_ going?"

"I'll tell you later," I grinned, "Promise." And then I waltzed out the door with the last word, knowing I'd have a lot to answer for when I got back.

XXXXX

I stared at her, gaping, my jaw prolly flat on the floor. Did she really just _do that?_ Just like _that?_ Everyone around me was cheering, but I could only just sit there and stare at her because god _damm_ it, that was all I could do! There was no way that was _Bridget Stevens._ I nudged the lady next to me, who looked briefly started, but continued to clap as I asked over the din of the crowd, "That was pretty good, wasn't it?"

The lady laughed. "Honey – she was _amazing_."

XXXXX

"Bridget! Over here!"

It felt like we were living in slow-motion as I watched her turn and notice me, then separate herself wordlessly from the group of people she'd been speaking to and make her way to me. I met her halfway, the crowd seem to subconsciously spread open for us, like the parting of the Red Sea. I smiled when I saw her.

"Hey, Two-Bit," she said softly. "Did you, uh, did you like it?"

"Yeah." No – try again. "Yeah. I uh, I can't say I expected that!" I laughed. She smirked.

"Is that a compliment?" Bee asked.

"Sure. Sure, it's a compliment. Here's another one: you were the best one out there. Really, Bridget, you got a knack for this whole business. You think I could make an advanced payment on one of your future records?"

Bee laughed self-consciously and rolled her eyes. "You may," she said. "You got any cash on you now?" I

"Not tonight. All I wanted was to see the lovely Miz Bee perform, that's all."

"Thanks for coming tonight," she said, her voice sounding sorta choked up.

"It's not a problem. Hey, Bee?"

"Yeah?"

"Bee, I, uh – "

" _Bridget Stevens!"_

And just like that, a huge swarm of girls – her friends, I guess – had swarmed around her. Bee just stared at me – _what can I do? –_ and I just smiled and shrugged because what else was I s'posed to do?

XXXXX

I was going to tell her I loved her, too.

XXXXX

 **AN: I have been waiting for this moment for so long. I think Bridget was, too.**

 **Hope you liked! If you did, feel free to let me know - I don't bite. :)**


	23. Grace of the Goons

**Author's Note: Welcome to the second-to-last chapter of this story! (Excluding the epilogue, of course.)**

 **So a while ago, I got a guest reviewer that said they had a soundtrack for these stories. Well, I thought that was a pretty fun idea, so I made one! Fifty songs form the sixties that are either directly mentioned in this story in some way, or are just for background. Instructions to find it are in my bio – the link isn't working well right now, but once I fix the bug, you'll be able to access it from there.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"So she hasn't broken up with him yet?"

I shook my head and sighed. The three of us – me, Steve, and Pony – had driven over to this little grocery store during our lunch hour, our usual hangout. We were waiting for the cashier to ring up our Cokes and candy bars, and without Pony around, Steve had decided he needed to get the four-one-one on my love life.

Figures.

"Not yet," I told him. "But I think she will. I _hope_ she will."

"She'll come around," Steve said. "The two of you wouldn't've gone through all this together if she wasn't gonna break up with him."

Fair point. Then again, Bee could be real fickle. And I knew how scared she was. Hell – how scared _I_ was. "You know what she told me the other day?" I asked, grabbing our drinks.

"What's that?"

"She told me she _loved_ me, Steve-o."

Steve didn't look the least bit surprised as he bit into his Milky Way. "Alright," he said slowly. "That's a good thing, right?"

"Well, _yeah_ ," I drawled, "but when she told me…I didn't say it back, man."

"Oh."

Yeah. _Oh._ I hadn't seen her since the night of the play, not outside of school. And I wanted to. I wanted to call her up, or just show up after school and tell her. It was just scary, now that it was out there. "That's not cool, man."

"Yeah, I know."

Just as we got to the doorway, Steve stopped cold and put his hand to my chest. Pointed out at the parking lot to his car, where Ponyboy had hopped up from his spot on the fender and was holding out a busted bottle to a group of socs.

Oh, man. Not again.

"You get back into your car or you'll get split," Pony threatened, his voice not even shaking. Steve and I looked at each other, silently agreeing that if things got bad, we'd step in. But I'll be honest – I kinda wanted to see how the kid would handle himself. When the socs didn't back off, Pony just got bolder, stepping forward with that busted bottle held loosely in his hand. We couldn't see his face, but I'd bet you good money he didn't look none too happy. "I mean it," he threatened. "I've had about all I can take from you guys." There was a bit of a shake in his voice that time, but he must've scared the socs good cuz they hopped in their car and drove off. I slid my eyes over to Steve, silently asking him to let me handle this.

"You really would have used that bottle, wouldn't you?" I called to him. Pony turned around, looking like he was coming off it. I don't know if anybody but us would've noticed the nervous look in his eyes. "Steve and me were backing you, but I guess we didn't need to. You'd have really cut them up, huh?"

"I guess so," he sighed. Steve and I finally stepped out of the store and stood over him as he – what was he doing?

"Ponyboy, listen, don't get tough. You're not like the rest of us and don't try to be…What in the world are you _doing?_ "

He looked up at me, innocent as ever. "Picking up the glass."

I just stared at him, glanced at Steve, who just raised his eyebrows and smirked. The glass. Right. "You little sonofagun," I breathed. Pony looked at me like I was nuts, and finished picking up the glass and threw it in the trashcan.

"You two are nuts," he grumbled, and me and Steve just shook our heads.

"Don't go changin', kid," Steve told him, for once in his life sounding like he meant it. "Here's your Coke – let's get outta here."

Pony took the Coke. Studied it a minute. "You couldn't'a gotten me a Pepsi?"

XXXXX

We were driving, the windows down and radio on, when I heard it. That song she'd been talking about from that play all those months ago as we sat on the football field together, her going on and on about it. And I think it was some sort of sign that it came on just then, and that Steve didn't bother to change the station. Sometimes, the universe kicks you in the ass like that.

XXXXX

I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm full of brilliant ideas. At least, when it comes to Bee Stevens. Steve was right – it wasn't cool that I had just left her hanging like that. So in second period, I wrote her a note – just like old times. When she got it and read it, she shot me a funny look, but I just shrugged and pointed at it because that's all she needed to know. I saw her reading it again as I approached her after school. She was sitting on the football field in the endzone, right under the goalpost, looking a million times smaller than everything around her. She didn't seem to notice me, just picked at the fraying edges of one of her English lit book. Eventually, she looked up at me.

"Well, hey there," she greeted.

"Well, hey back." I sat down across from her.

"So. Why'd you want to meet?" she asked, not sounding too happy. Sounding a bit nervous, really. I smirked.

" _Well_ ," I drawled, "it has to do with your little, uh, _confession_ ," I admitted, and she let out a small sigh.

"What about it?" Bee whispered.

"You still think you love me?" She looked afraid to do so, but she nodded. "Good. Cuz I was thinkin' about it a lot, and... I believe you." Of course I believed her. I did. That's what was scaring me so much. "But what I can't seem to figure out...is _why_. Why me? There're plenty of fish in the sea, Stevens. Why me?"

"Um," she stammered, "Uh. It's you for lots of reasons. You...you..."

Okay. Maybe I should go first. "Ya wanna know why I like you?" I interrupted, and she almost looked glad that I had.

"Why?" Bee asked.

When she tells the story, she sorta sums up what I said. And she gets the sentiment right, but I kinda want you to know my exact words. So this is really what I said:

"I don't quite know when I noticed it. Because it sure wasn't right off the bat, no matter how pretty I thought you were." (Bee blushed _red_ , I remember that real well.) "But you're _good_. You came down here, and I could tell you were lost from day one. And I get why you're so scared. You got lots of reasons to be. But you're above all our shit, Bee. You tried to be as awful as girls like Harper, but you can't do it. You just ain't wired that way. So instead, you like things and you cry when you're upset and you can stand up to me because _you_ knew from day one that I'm full of shit. I ain't never met another gal like you in my life. And that's _kinda_ sayin' somethin', cuz I've known a lotta girls. Believe me, I've got a whole _laundry list_ of reasons why it's you. I could go on forever, but I won't. Cuz I won't ever shut up." (Jesus, she looked like she was about to pass out.) "So I guess we're good, Stevens. I guess we're good. 'Cuz I love you too."

Fuck. There it was. Just…out there. For me and her and anybody to know. I patted down my pockets hoping for a cigarette, finding one and immediately lighting up because if you wanna know the truth, I was kinda shaking. _Yikes_. I accidentally blew smoke in her face I was so out of it. "Sorry," I apologized, and Bee just nodded.

"So, what now?" she wondered, and I blew out another stream of smoke.

"Well. I dunno."

"So this is it?"

"Huh?"

But then Bee didn't say anything for a good long time. She just stared at me, searching me, looking me up and down like she was trying to find something. (And I promise this is relevant: Pony has this weird theory, about people who have green eyes. Thinks they're evil or somethin'. Which is stupid, cuz Pony himself has green eyes, and even stupider now that Bee's staring at me with eyes greener than the grass we're sitting on, and she's just about the least evil person I know – besides Ponyboy.) And I think she found it. Because a few minutes later, she answered her own question. The smile on her face said it all.

"This isn't it. I'm in love with you," she breathed.

"I thought we'd already covered that."

"Yeah. Yeah. But now I know why."

"Why?"

"Because of _this_."

In one swift motion, she leaned in, yanked the cigarette out of mouth, stamped it out in the grass, and kissed me for all she was worth. And I would've stayed there like that with her forever if I didn't remember that in a few minutes, the track team was gonna come out for practice, and that meant not only would they all _see_ us, _Pony_ would see us.

"Honey Bee," I mumbled, "we can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Well, I mean, if you really _want_ every guy on the track team to watch us –"

"No!" She said quickly. "No, let's get out of here."

"Good idea."

We got out just in time, watching from behind the fence as they all filed in, and yep – there was Pony, smaller than all the rest of 'em. "That would've been so embarrassing," Bee mumbled. "I know a lot of them, too."

"What – embarrassing to get caught with me?"

"To get caught with _anybody_. It has nothing to do with _you_." Bee sighed, watching as all of them ran past us. "Your friend, Ponyboy, doesn't he run?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Didn't exactly want to explain that just yet."

"Do they know?" She asked quietly, almost drowned out by the sound of the team's feet pounding against the turf. I shrugged.

"Kinda. I haven't exactly outright told them." When she looked kinda upset, I added, "But I will. Soon. Do _your_ friends know?"

"Cherry knows," she whispered. "But I'm gonna tell the rest of them, too."

I knew I could trust that. Hell, I figured I _had_ to. As we started to walk from the track and out to the parking lot so we could go our separate ways, I kept going back and forth between forgetting and remembering that we had…we'd just told each other we _loved each other_. That was sorta a big deal, right? And you're s'posed to trust the people you love. Right? And I did. And I didn't want to say goodbye to her either. Not just yet. Not when we had just said all this to each other, not now that we knew.

"What was that song you were talkin' about a while back?" I asked, making her stop short a few rows away from her car. Bee raised an eyebrow in question.

"Which one?"

"The one the scarecrow from _The Wizard of Oz_ sang, from that play – _All American?_ " I guessed.

Bee nodded. "Yeah, that's 'Once Upon a Time.'"

"How's it go?"

Bridget clammed up a bit. Girl can belt her heart out in front of an auditorium of people, but in front of me, she won't do a damn thing. "Uh. Why?"

"Cuz I might'a heard it on the radio the other day. Now – how's it go?"

"Oh, c'mon, Two-Bit – "

"What? It's just me! Nothin' to be scared of."

"Screw you."

"C' _mon…_ "

"Seriously – screw you." But Bee took a deep breath and _sorta_ sang the song. "Once upon a time, a girl with moonlight in her eyes, put her hand in mine, and said she loved me so…"

"Yeah! That's the one." I nudged her hand with mine. "See? That wasn't so bad."

Bee looked down at our hands. "No," she whispered. "I guess it wasn't."

"I know you wanna hold my hand, Bee."

She snorted. "Sure."

"Do it. I _dare_ you."

"Not much of a dare," she grumbled, but I felt her lace her fingers with mine. "What are we gonna do now?" She asked, pulling me to her, forcing me to look at her. "Do we…do _I…_ "

"You know how you feel, honey," I told her, stepping even closer. "And I know how _I_ feel. And I know what I want, and that's for you to be happy. And you have to go about that whatever way you see fit."

"Two-Bit," she breathed, shaking her head, "I-I…" She sighed and rested her head on my chest, and I automatically, without thinking, started running my other hand through her hair. "I don't know what to do."

"I think you do," I said, sure of her and myself. It all seemed so simple to me, so I said it simple. "And I don't know what that is. But I know you're gonna do what you think is right."

"Well, for both our sakes, I sure hope so."

XXXXX

I can't imagine a good reason for the house phone to be ringing at this hour, but I'd passed out in front of the TV and lo and behold, off it goes. Je _sus_. Sadie was sitting right in front of the set, watching…hell, I don't know what she was watchin'. I blinked myself awake, yawned, stretched out like a cat, and got up from the couch.

"Girly, why you sittin' so close to that thing?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Can I make chocolate milk?"

I sorta just stared at her for a sec, because who the hell wants chocolate milk at this hour, but I nodded anyway. The phone was still ringing. Yeah. Gotta answer that. "'Lo?"

"Two-Bit?"

Well, well, _well_.

"Bee?"

"Yeah, yeah it's me."

I looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. Seven-thirty. Sadie was standing on a stepstool, pouring chocolate syrup into a glass of milk. Making a mess. I watched her while I continued talking into the phone. Something in Bridget's voice didn't sound right. "Whaddya need?"

"Could you come pick me up? I'm a couple blocks down from the school. Could you please come pick me up?"

I'd heard that whine before. She was dead serious. My heartbeat quickened some because hell, last phone call I got like this, my buddy had been shot down. So I didn't even waste time asking her why she needed me, I just nodded, even though she wasn't there, and dropped everything. "Yeah, babe. Wait right there."

I hung the phone back up and turned to my baby sister, who was now in the process of mopping up the milk and chocolate she had gotten on the counter. I snorted to myself. "Next time, maybe ask for help?"

She scowled at me. "I can do it myself, Keith."

"Yeah, yeah. You think you'll be alright by yourself for a few minutes, girly? I've got a bit of an emergency on my hands."

"Ma'll be mad if you go."

"Only if you tell her."

She looked at me sideways. "What'll you give me if I _don't_ tell her?"

God, _seriously?_ Nine years old and already bargaining. Goodness _._ "Whaddya want?"

She thought about it for a second. She looked up at the ceiling like she did when she was thinking. Sadie gave me her patented puppy-dog look. "I want new shoes."

"New shoes?"

"There's a pair of saddle shoes at the department store that I want, and the ones I have now are wearing out. Please? If you don't get them for me, I'll tell!"

I blew my cheeks out. "Fine." She smiled triumphantly, and I held up a finger - a caveat. "But! You're gonna have to give me a few days, okay? I need to get a bit more dough, and then I'll pick them up for you."

"Deal."

"Shake on it, sister."

Sadie stuck out her hand and we shook on it, and then I was out the door, driving to the school.

XXXXX

Bridget was sitting on the curb, head in her hands, staring miserably out at the street. Yeesh. I pulled up alongside the curb a few feet from her and got out.

"Oh, god." I think I kinda laughed. Smooth, Keith. "Lookit you."

"Thank you," was all she said. I held out my hand and helped her up, leading her over to the truck.

"Why're you walkin all by yourself, huh?"

"Jerry wasn't exactly enthused about the idea of driving me home, considering I broke it off with him."

"So you finally dumped him, huh?"

"Yeah," she whispered. "I did."

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She seemed _upset_ …but at the same time, she wasn't bawling or nothing. "Thank god, then. Maybe we could actually get something started." That might have been a bit insensitive, but it wasn't like I really cared. I wanted her to break it off with him. I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened. "Like this goddamn car, maybe." I kept trying, but seems as if this rust bucket was finally giving out on me. "Damn thing won't start!"

"You're kidding."

"Aw, shut up." I looked out the windshield, and when I saw it, I got an idea. Bus stop. I slapped my hands on the steering wheel. "C'mon, Bee - I'mma get you home, c'mon."

"Wait - what? Two-Bit!"

I hopped out of the truck and ran around to her side, where she was already climbing out. I dug through my pockets and came up with what I think was enough for bus fare. "Think this'll be enough?" Bee counted the money.

"Well, I suppose so. For what?"

"For bus fare, that's what."

"I think that's more than enough, then."

I grabbed her hand and jerked her along after me. I don't know what the hell had come over me, but I suddenly felt bound and determined to get her home.

"Do they even run this late?"

"Yeah, they do. I dunno how close we'll be able to get to your house though."

When the bus came, I shoved all the change at the driver – _"Keep the change, pal."_ – and then I grabbed Bee's hand and dragged her to the very back. I glanced back at her once and shot her a big grin, and she just narrowed her eyes at me. And then we just sat there quietly, watching the night go by and the bus leave my truck behind. The sun had all but set, and it was weird, it being dark out there and it being all fluorescently lit in here. Kinda gave Bee a sickly glow, and for the first time that night, I realized what she'd done: she'd told her boyfriend. She'd told Jerry. She'd had the guts to break it off with _Jerry Thompson_. And she did all of it because of me – or maybe for me. Bee was taking a shot in the dark here. I could tell how hard she was working to keep it together now that I was seeing her in this light. I didn't want to stare – but yeah, I did. Bee's braver than anyone knows, could _ever_ know, or could ever imagine. Hell, I can barely understand it myself. All I knew was that I suddenly noticed we weren't the only ones on that bus, and that this was all very real.

And for the first time, that felt right.

I eventually pulled the cord once we were as close to her house as we were gonna get, and I again dragged her behind me, like I wasn't able to trust that she could move on her own. I only stopped when she did, suddenly on the sidewalk, and I turned to find her – of course – staring upwards.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Bee asked, not looking at me, just looking up – always up. (Maybe that's why she can't see what's _right fucking in front of her._ )

"'Course I do," I said simply, adding, "And I'm very happy." I felt her squeeze my hand, and then I looked up with her. "What're you lookin' for?"

"Nothing in particular."

"They're just stars, ya know. They're everywhere."

"I know. But I haven't seen them many times before."

"Oh. Right. I'm so stupid."

"You aren't stupid."

Sure.

"C'mon, Bee. I'll walk ya home."

Every time I crossed over to the West side of town, I gotta admit, I felt a little spooked. I couldn't help it. I don't think I ever would get over that. You live with something like that for so long, it gets ingrained in ya. You don't forget completely, you don't completely move on. I don't think I'd ever forgive them for what happened to me and my friends. Not really.

Bee's house was this huge, white, plantation house. The windows were all dark – nobody home, I suppose. I stood on her front porch, drinking the place in, when I felt her squeeze my hand. I looked down to see her smiling softly up at me. "Come inside," she said. I raised my eyebrows and looked at the door. I'd heard that a few times in my day, and it hadn't ever really ended well.

"What would your old man say when he saw me?" I asked.

"Nothing. Because he won't see you."

"He won't?"

She shook her head. "Come with me." Bee led me around the side of the porch to the back of the house, leading us up a flight of stairs. There was a door at the top and she pushed it open. We stepped into a dark room – a bedroom. "Shh," she cautioned. "Lemme listen for a sec." We both stood real still, listening for – what? Her father, I guess. Bee looked real nervous, twisting her curls around her finger as she listened.

I guess the coast was clear, cuz she crossed the room and flicked on the lights to reveal the pinkest room I've ever been in in my _life_. Seriously – pink walls, white carpet, light pink bedding on a white four-poster bed. I whistled low. "Holy moly, Miz Bee. You like pink, I take it?"

She blushed the same color as the room, which only made me laugh. "Is it a bit overkill?" she asked sheepishly.

I shook my head. " _Naw_ , it's fine. Kinda looks like Pepto Bismol, or maybe the lining of my stomach."

Bee giggled again. "He's not home yet," she explained. "We should be in the clear for a while."

"Where is he?" I asked, sitting down in the rocking chair and resting my arms on my thighs, examining the place. Bee's face fell.

"He's on a _date_."

Oh, _yeah_. Mr. Stevens was seeing some lady. That's why she hadn't been able to go out the other night. "I _see_. He got hisself a girl, huh?" She nodded. "Well. I guess that makes two of us, then."

Bee smirked and crossed the room again, so she was standing right in front of me. "About that, Two-Bit."

"About what?"

"About me being you girl."

I stopped rocking. She was waiting for me to make the next move, to say something. I ran my eyes up from her feet to her face, noticing every detail from the slight chip in her red nail polish to the freckles across the bridge of her nose. "What about it?" I asked, not wanting her to know how nervous I was.

Bee took a deep breath, and let it out long and slow. "I'm glad you think so," she said softly, the _hint_ of a smile on her lips. "I'm glad I'm your girl."

 _Ohthankgod._ "I'm glad you are, too," I said slowly, watching her carefully, wondering if she was going to say anything else. When she just ducked her head shyly, I stood up and started walking around her room, ending up in front of her shelves full of record albums. "You sure do got a lot of records..."

I flicked through them. Peter, Paul, and Mary. Bob Dylan. Simon and Garfunkel. The Supremes. The Beach Boys. Joan Baez. The scores to countless musicals. _The Beatles_. I picked up _Rubber Soul,_ turning to her with a smirk on my face. When she saw what I was holding, she instantly crossed her arms over her chest, like she was ready to defend them at a moments' notice. "I don't get it, Bridget," I chastised. "How could you like music by these British pansies when there are _several other_ better choices?"

Bee threw up her hands. "Like _who?"_

"Uh, Elvis? Jerry Lee Lewis? Chuck Berry? Have you been living under a _rock?_ "

"I could ask you the same thing," she countered, quickly walking over and taking the record from my hands and putting it back on her shelf.

"Aw, you just got a crush on one of 'em, that's all that is." Bee rolled her eyes, but I knew I was right. She always blushes when people say stuff like that – when _I_ say stuff like that. "And c' _mon –_ my taste is _clearly_ superior."

She scoffed. "Seriously? _You?_ Those guys are old news! I mean, have you heard this stuff? It's new and deep and...These groups are _boss_ , Two-Bit. _Really_. Lemme play you something."

I crossed my arms and gave her a nice, long, cool stare, challenging her. "What would you play me?" I asked. She shrugged.

"I don't know," she said.

"No - really. What would you play? I insist! Put something on, Miz Bridget."

She held my stare for a few moments, then went into her shelves, fingers quickly flicking over their covers, considering over a few of them and then moving on until – _"Shut your eyes or something! I don't want you ruining the surprise." – Blonde on Blonde_ came on. Like she really thought I didn't know Bob Dylan. Didn't like him.

"I've heard this," I scoffed.

"You have?" she asked, clearly disappointed. I nodded.

"Yeah," I said. "Yeah - yes. _Yes_ , I've heard this. Those rainy day women, pillbox hats. Do you _really_ think I've been living under a rock?"

"No, not really," Bee frowned.

Then we got quiet, just listening to it. I leaned against the wall, wishing for a smoke but knowing that Bee didn't and her old man would get suspicious. Bee fell back on her bed, which was a tempting position for her to be in, but I didn't take advantage of it. Again – too risky. Not right now. But there was something I _could_ do – when "Visions of Johanna" started playing, I stood over her and offered her my hand. Bee looked at me curiously, but then she grabbed my hand, neither of us saying a word, and she let me pull her up and to me. She smiled up at me because she was on to me, but Bee relaxed into my chest, and then we were just slowly moving back and forth, my hand running through her hair like it always wanted to do. Everything about her, just _everything…_

"I gotta ask you something," I mumbled, hoping she would hear me.

"What?" She mumbled against my chest.

"Remember when I brought up that gap between your teeth?"

Bee laughed and looked up at me. "Yeah," she sighed, almost sounding… _happy_. "I remember."

"Did you think I was makin' fun of you?"

Bee cocked her head to the side. "No," she decided, then nodded definitively. And I knew that look on her face – her mind was made up. "I didn't. It just sorta annoyed me."

"I could see that."

She relaxed back into me. "Do you really think you love me, Two-Bit?" she asked.

I nodded, to no one in particular, staring off into space over her head. "Yeah. At least, I think I do."

"I think I do too."

I was so zenned out that I didn't even notice the front door opening. Bee's sudden reaction – jerking away from me and whipping her head towards her door – was kinda jarring. "Turn it off," she hissed, moving into action. I pulled the needle off the record and stashed it.

"Shit, shit, _shit_ ," Bee mumbled, swearing more in one sentence than I'd ever heard her do. I smiled to myself because, well, it was kinda funny. This pristine girl with a dirty mouth.

" _Bridget?_ Are you home?"

Oh, shit. Her dad. Her face went from relaxed to alarm and she turned towards the door. "Yes, Daddy!" ( _Daddy?)_ She turned back to me, hands over her heart. "You gotta get the hell outta here."

I sure did. "Don't worry, kid. I'm cool with the whole disappearing thing." I started to head for the porch door, but her hand on my shoulder stopped me.

"Wait," she said. "Two-Bit, wait."

"What?" Her father was coming up the stairs. Goddammit, I couldn't get caught in another chick's room again. That doesn't end well. Just ask Kathy.

"Promise me you'll come back," she whispered. "Promise you'll come back, Two-Bit."

What made her think I wouldn't? I wasn't just gonna leave her behind. No. Never. And that's why I told her.

"Yeah, Bee. Promise. Uh…Bridget?"

"Yeah?"

Oh, _god,_ was I really about to do this? Her eyes were wide, and she was practically staring into my soul, and how could I go through life with her not knowing my real name? Nobody except my mother and sister use it. I sighed, not believing that this was what I was about to do, but I wasn't gonna let her (us?) go through life and have her be surprised when she finds out my name isn't _actually_ Two-Bit. I almost couldn't believe she didn't know it yet, but if she had…well, knowing her, I think I woulda known. I took a deep breath. Fuck it.

" _The name's Keith_."

XXXXX

 _"_ _Keith?_ Keith Mathews? That's your _real name?_ Ha!"

"Yeah, and ya know what? Your initials stand for _bullshit_ , which is exactly what you're full of."

"Oh, I don't mean it. It's a good name. I'm sorry, _Keith_."

"I hate you."

"No you don't. You _love_ me!"

XXXXX

Darry slammed three composition notebooks in front of me. His one day off this week, and what's this? Looks like _schoolwork_ to me. He sighed and slumped into the seat across from me, smearing his hands down his face.

"What's up?" I asked quietly.

"Do you know what those are?" I shook my head. I really didn't. "You know that Pony wasn't doing so well in school lately, yeah?"

I shrugged. "Guess so. I dunno, we didn't really talk about it. But, Darry, he's a good kid –"

"I know he is," Darry cut in. "I know. But he was doin' real bad in _English_ of all things, and his teacher, Mr. Syme?" I nodded, remembering bitching about the freshman English teacher when I had him. "He said if he wrote him a decent theme, he'd pass him. The kid wouldn't let me see it, but _this is it_."

I raised an eyebrow. "All three of these?"

" _All three._ "

"So…you read it?"

Darry sounded guilty when he answered, "Yeah, I did," running a hand through his hair and unable to meet my eyes. "It's about what happened last fall," he said quietly, and suddenly, I was a lot more interested. I picked up the top notebook and opened to the first page, scanning it. "Kid got an _A-plus_. He woulda passed him with a _C_."

 _When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home. I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman - he looks tough and I don't - but I guess my own looks aren't so bad. I have light-brown, almost-red hair and greenish-gray eyes. I wish they were more gray, because I hate most guys that have green eyes, but I have to be content with what I have. My hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs, squared off in back and long  
at the front and sides, but I am a greaser and most of my neighborhood rarely bothers to get a haircut. Besides, I look better with long hair. _

"He wrote this?" I asked. Cuz it sure _sounded_ like Ponyboy – I mean, there was that whole line about hating guys with green eyes (somebody needed to talk to him about that – maybe _me_ ) – but still.

"He sure did," Darry sighed. "He thought I hated him."

"Does he still think that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I hope not. That fight we had the other day, that's in there. Remember I told you about it, when Soda ran out and everything?" I nodded. "And even something that happened the other day, with you and Steve."

I cocked an eyebrow. "At the grocery store with the socs?"

"Yeah." Darry ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up. "It's really good," he choked out. "It's really fuckin' good."

"He's a smart kid," I said quietly, kinda wishing Darry wouldn't cry just then because I was kinda full-up on emotions for the moment. "I bet it is." I set the notebook I'd been holding back on the stack.

Darry was holding his head in his hand, which was distorting what he was saying a bit. "He knows us all so well. The kid sees _everything_." He shook his head. "Says good things about you."

I perked up a bit. "Does he now."

"Sure does. You and Soda and Johnny. Isn't Steve's number one fan, or Dally's, really. Certainly isn't mine."

I shook my head. "You two are crazy. You're brothers. He don't hate you, Darry. How many times do we gotta tell you that? And shit – how many times do we gotta tell Pony that _you_ don't hate _him?_ Y'all gotta sit down and talk or somethin', figure this out."

Darry looked at me like I was a whole different person than the Keith Mathews he'd grown up with. "Since when are you all for sittin' down and figurin' shit out?"

"That, buddy, would take me more than three notebooks to answer."

XXXXX

 **AN: "Once Upon a Time" is a song from the play** ** _All American,_** **as Two-Bit and Bridget have stated. I consider it and "Don't Think Twice" as themes for these stories. I do** ** _not_** **own either of those. Give 'em a listen, if you'd like!**

 **Also – next chapter is technically the last chapter of this story. However, there will be an epilogue published afterwards that really serves as an epilogue to both stories, but in Two-Bit's POV. I** ** _might_** **do an update on** ** _Don't Think Twice_** **so you can get an epilogue from** ** _Bridget's_** **POV, but I'm not sure yet. Let me know if that's something you're interested in!**

 **As the story comes to a close, I'd love to hear what you think! You've all been so supportive in your reads, and I'd like to thank you all for that :)**


	24. The Way We Are

**Author's Note: Welcome the last chapter! Sorta. Last before the epilogue. I've decided to do one for "Don't Think Twice" as well, and both epilogues will be out sometime next week.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

"My god, you're a senior. I don't know how you did it, Two-Bit."

"One of the many mysteries of life, kid. Say – where's Steve-o?"

"He's givin' Evie a lift today."

"Figures he'd wait 'til the end of the year to get a new ride and then bum offa me the rest of the time."

Pony just shook his head. The two of us were walking out of the school and towards his place, my piece of junk still in the shop. But it was a nice day for walking. Felt more like a day in April than a day in May, the breeze kicking up a bit but the sun still out. We weren't far, and there was plenty to talk about. _Plenty_.

"Why _did_ you decide to pass?" Pony asked as we were walking, coming up on a park about midway between the school and his place. But not the park where It happened.

"It's complicated," I shrugged. But Pony is never one for half-assed answers, so he kept pressing.

"I know your mom wants you to graduate. But you have until you're twenty-one to do that."

"Well, I don't know if I was gonna stick around 'til I was _twenty-one_ –"

"But is that it? Is that the only reason?" He asked, stopping and standing in front of me. There have been separate points over the past year or so where I've realized that the guys are on to me. Darry realized it long ago – maybe even before that talk we had in his kitchen after the funerals. Steve's known ever since Bee stormed into the DX that night and he came and found me at the bar. Soda's prolly known since that day I drove her over to the DX so she could call her father. And shit, Soda and Pony tell each other _everything_ , so of course the kid probably knows. Maybe he's known for a while. Maybe he pays better attention at school than we all think he does. I sighed.

"You win, Pony. I'll tell you why else."

His eyes lit up. Bingo – that's what he wanted to hear. "Why, then?"

"You don't know?"

I don't know if he was playing dumb or not, but I think he was. "No, I really don't."

I walked around him and said over my shoulder, "You sure Soda ain't told you? You haven't heard what happened at prom? Don't you know what I did?"

Pony followed after me, right on my tail. "Of course I heard. I know what happened. And I know what Vickie Harper did, too, Two-Bit," he said significantly. We both stopped and watched each other. I swallowed roughly.

"Then you do know," I told him. "Because I couldn't stay behind while Bee Stevens went on without me."

His eyes went wide. Maybe he'd known. Maybe he hadn't. But if he hadn't, he was sure good at pretending. "Bridget Stevens? Two-Bit, she ain't even blonde! What exactly are you trying to say?"

Ponyboy could be real dense sometimes. I stared at him through my sunglasses and started slowly shaking my head. "Cigarette, kid?"

He shrugged. "Sure." I tapped one into his hand and got it lit up for him.

"Allow me to explain something to you," I began. I gestured for him to sit down next to me on the park bench, and we sat quietly for a few moments, smoking and staring. "You see," I finally said, "when a man and a woman love each other very much -"

"Two-Bit, _shut up!_ Tell me what's really going on."

When I looked at Pony and saw that real sincere look on his face, I knew I was done for. No more kidding around. I sighed. "Pone, she and I…we got a thing. We're gonna try it out. See how things go between us."

"But she's a soc, Two-Bit."

I smirked. "Since when is that something you care about? Kid, I'm gonna tell you something, and I'm only gonna tell ya once, ya dig?"

"'Course. What is it?"

And that's when I finally got the courage to say it. I ain't _told_ – not in plain English – a single one of my buddies yet, not really. Darry knows. Steve and Soda _know._ But one day, you just gotta finally say it, and maybe it was because the kid was real sensitive and he wouldn't laugh at me that he was the first one I actually _told_. But no matter how you look at it, I just told him point-blank.

"Pony, I'mma tell you right now that I know that she and I? We're gonna work." I scratched one of my sideburns and looked away from him when I said it. "But I love her, man. I…I dunno. But I love her, and I know that we're just sorta" – I threw my hands up as if that said it all – "we work. And I know because there ain't a single day where I don't think about her."

"Every day?" Pony breathed.

"Every day."

"Well…how many times a day?"

"I'd say about every hour. Multiple times an hour, more like it."

He slumped back against the bench and put his hands behind his head. "Man! Every day. You're really in love with her?"

I nodded. "That's the consensus."

"And she's actually in love with you?"

"Well," I laughed, "don't sound so _surprised-"_

"I just can't picture it! I mean, you were with Kathy forever, and you've never loved her. It's just surprising that you fell in love at all, I guess."

That was fair. I wasn't the type. But we'd all changed. And, I think, maybe we'd all changed for the better. I know in my head why we did, but it kinda hurts in my heart to think about. The seven of us, we had been tight. Thick as thieves. And now it was the five of us. Darry had been right - if Johnny and Dallas dying had taught us anything, it was that life doesn't stop and wait for you to get a clue. It'll bring down the hammer when you're least expecting it. That's why I was finally gonna get up the nerve to ask Bee on a real date - because if I don't, I never will forgive myself.

I walked Pony home. Hung around the house for a bit. Darry congratulated Pony on passing his English class with a knowing smile, and all the color drained from the kid's face.

"You _found it?"_ He squeaked.

"Sure did," Darry drawled, the rest of us watching them. Steve glanced over at me and raised an eyebrow, and I just shook my head. He'd know soon enough. Ponyboy stared at his brother, Soda glancing back and forth between them, but the subject seemed to get dropped for the moment because Darry went on, saying, "Tim stopped by today." The rest of us came more fully into the kitchen. "Seems he's not too happy about what Two-Bit did the other day."

"I didn't _do_ anything," I defended, holding up my hands. I heard someone snort. "Tim's just shitty at poker."

Darry shook his head. "Look – I'm not saying it wasn't fair, but now that he's short two grand, he's not feeling too friendly towards _any_ of us."

"That's his problem," Soda said, sounding almost cheerful. "Two-Bit needed that money more than he did, anyways. That mobster is gone, and we can all get on with our lives."

"But Tim's still pissed," Pony said. "And he's pissed at _us_. That ain't a good thing."

"Hate to admit it, but I think I agree with the kid," Steve said, clapping Pony on the back. "Shepards have always been an ally. Don't know if we can afford to lose that."

Darry just smirked and shook his head. "I dunno, man. Things are different now, ain't they, Two-Bit?"

He cut his eyes to mine. Darry looked like he was about to burst out laughing, which means I had to beat him to the punch. The rest of the guys stared at us like we were both nuts, which we probably are.

"What's this?" Soda asked.

"Soda, man," I sighed, wiping my eyes and moving over to clap Darry on the shoulder. "I think y'all know exactly this is."

Everyone was quiet for another second or two, but then they were all laughing, too, cuz shit – this was all – all of it – over a few girls. And they all knew. We didn't have to say anything. I didn't, they didn't. You know a guy for so long, you can kinda tell when he's fallen hard for a gal.

XXXXX

One night, I'm just sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette, and I look up and see Bridget's Beetle cruising down the road. My heart skipped a beat; part of me knew she really shouldn't be down here. The other part of me was real glad she was.

"Hey!" She called after parking the car in front of my house and getting out. She was smiling like the dickens. "I was thinking maybe you'd like to get dinner or something? Dad gave me some money for the A-and-W."

I raised an eyebrow. "He gave you money? Your daddy know you're taking a boy out?"

Bee just laughed, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of pink. "Shut up, Mathews. He thinks I'm going out with Missy and Cherry. C'mon! I'm buying." She paused for a second, still smiling up at me from the foot of the porch. As if it was only the thought of her paying that would be the reason I'd want to go out with her.

"You trying to ask me on a date, Bee Stevens?" I asked her, trying not to laugh out loud at the whole situation. Guess she beat me to the punch. She ducked her head.

"Yeah," she said shyly. "I think maybe I am."

I jogged down the porch steps, flicking away the butt of my cigarette into the yard. I stopped in front of her and just looked at her for a minute, and she just looked at me. She was real cute. She was wearing this plaid shirt tucked into her jeans that made her look like she was just your average girl-next-door (well – sorta. It was _Vogue_ casual), not the - what's the word? - _Cosmopolitan_ girl I knew her to be. A real Betty. It's always kinda weird to see a chick in pants.

"Well then," I said, "mind if I drive?"

She shook her head and turned over the keys.

XXXXX

The A&W was hoppin'. Bee and I were sitting in one of the stalls at the end, sitting and talking. Just…talking.

"So this is a real date," she told me, then bit off the end of a fry. "No more sitting behind the school, especially since school's over. We go on _real_ dates now, Two-Bit."

"Sounds fair. I mean, I kinda liked it. Felt real taboo. Kinda made it fun."

She raised her eyebrows like she was surprised. "This isn't fun?"

Bee actually looked worried that I might not be having a good time, which couldn't be further from the truth. I was in love with her. We could be watching paint dry and I'd be having a good time.

"Of course this is fun, honey," I told her. For affect, I kissed her hand like the real suave guy I am and smiled up at her. Then I frowned, realizing something: here I was in this beautiful girl's car, on a date with her, wanting nothing more than to park somewhere with her so we could have our ways with each other, and all I could think about was what everybody else would think. Bee looked at me, worried.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly. "Two-Bit, are you okay?"

I nodded quickly. "Yeah. Yeah! Just - Bridget?"

I never used her real name, just like she never used mine. So she knew I was serious. "What is it, Two-Bit?"

I took a deep breath. I didn't want to ruin this or anything, but I had to be honest with myself, and to her. "It's gonna be hard, ya know."

She seemed to know exactly what I was talking about. "I know."

"Really, Bee. It's gonna be hard. Especially on you. So I gotta know for sure that this is what you want."

"This is definitely what I want."

Man, that real earnest look on her face nearly made me wanna cry. She was a good person. I smiled at her, trying to hide just how nervous I was about all this. I couldn't give her anything. Why'd she want me so bad? "I dig that, darlin'. It's what I want too. We just...we just gotta figure it out, is all. Ya know what I mean?"

"I do," she whispered. "I do, Two-Bit."

I sighed. That sounded an awful lot like a serious commitment. I just shook my head. "One day, Bridget, when I've grown up a little, and you're rich and famous or married to some rich and famous guy, one of the guys will find a picture of you, or a letter to me with your name on it. And then I'll tell everyone all about you, and it'll all be very cliché." I was trying to joke with her a bit at the end there, but I don't think it really came across that way. She just stared at me for a solid minute and then started to shake her head real slow.

"No, Two-Bit. It's not gonna be that way."

"I dunno, Bee. This isn't really how it's s'posed to work ya know. You an' me, that is. It just doesn't happen in the natural world."

"You really think that, don't you? You really think this won't work."

What? No! I held up a finger and wagged it in her face. "No! That's not it. I'm just bein'…cautious."

"You're being _cautious_?" she laughed. "Since when have you ever been cautious, _Keith Mathews_?"

Dammit. I knew I shouldn't've told her about that.

"Plenty of times," I said slowly. "It ain't like you've known me my whole life."

"Well…no. I guess not."

Then we just stared at each other. I knew what was going to happen next. Saw it happen in this exact parking lot with other people plenty of times before. Me and Kathy have done it. I've seen that look on plenty of women's faces. I grinned wolfishly at her, and she grinned real slow, making her eyes crease. She was real beautiful when she smiled. And before I knew it, I had her by the waist and she had her arms wrapped around my neck and I had her pressed up against the car door and we were just kissing and it was…uncomplicated. If only it were that way all the time! I ran my hand through her hair, wanting to work my way down but letting her set the pace.

"How could I have ever thought you hated me?" she whispered against my lips, leaning in closer. I kissed her again and again, on the cheek and her forehead and jaw.

"It takes a lot of love to hate somebody, ya know. Ya know how when we was kids, everyone would say that hate equals love? Well hell, by this point, I'm startin' to think maybe it's true."

She just looked at me for a second, her left hand playing with the hair at the base of my neck. I thought she might start bawling. I don't know why she would, exactly. Instead, she just kissed me again.

"I think maybe you're right," she whispered. "Wanna take this somewhere else?"

And I tore right outta there.

XXXXX

Looks like we were in for another Indian summer.

One morning, real early on in the summer, only a few days after school had ended, I woke up kinda early. The house was really quiet, and mom had gotten in late last night, so I knew I was the only one awake. That never happens. The clock read seven. No one on the planet Earth was prolly up yet.

But then I got an idea.

I crawled outta bed, and rummaged through my closet. Mom had washed the black shirt I'd worn out with Bee the other night, but it was already on the floor of the closet. I picked it up. Smelled it. It still smelled like her perfume. So did the jacket I'd leant her all those months ago. I'd stopped wearing it, I suddenly realized. Hell, the only people I saw wearing leather jackets anymore was the Shepard gang. I smirked. Guess it had gone out of style. I put the black shirt on, and the only pair of jeans I had that didn't have any holes in 'em. I didn't put anything in my hair. It was too hot. It'd just mix with my sweat and get all gross. Funny. I'd forgotten that my hair was that shade of red. It wasn't so dark, but a bit like rust. And hell – it was long, too. Longer than I remembered. Wavier than I remembered. Maybe she liked it that way. I hoped she liked it that way.

I felt like the only person in the world as I left the house and walked down our street. It wasn't too warm yet, but it was working its way up, and would probably be pretty warm by the time I got to her place. But for now, I just let my feet carry me; snagged an apple from a fruit stand and just kept going, feeling the rising sun beat against my back and start to warm everything up. I hitched a ride prolly a couple miles in, but the old cowboy had the decency to drop me off about seven blocks from her place. Alright. Fair enough. I was in a good mood, and I don't think there was anything that could deter it.

I know I'd just been there, but it still felt strange approaching her house. Everything was so different on this side of town. Like I'd stepped into some alternate universe, or something. Not to risk sounding like some corny comic book or something, but I felt like a fuckin' Martian or something. Walking up the tree-lined front walk, I realized for the millionth time just how _different_ we were, how different our lives were. But how that didn't seem to make a lick of difference.

I was gonna knock on the front door, but then I heard something. Coming more from the back of the house. So I followed the porch around to the back and figured out she was playing the _piano_ at much-too-early in the morning. I think she'd mentioned a time or two before that she played. And hell – when I say that she played, I mean she _played_. I could've stood back there and listened for a while, but that wasn't what I had come for, so I knocked on the back door instead. Instantly, the playing stopped, and I could see her coming to answer the door through the screen. When she saw it was me, her eyes widened instantly in surprise.

"Hey there, Two-Bit," she greeted. She was still standing inside, and I was still outside.

"Hey," I said back. "So, uh, you gon' let me in, or am I gonna have to stand out here? It's hot, ya know!" I laughed, and she gave me a weak smile and pushed open the screen door.

"No, you can come in," she said. God, it must've been twenty degrees cooler in here.

"Damn, it feels good in here. You got yourself some air-conditioning. Hell, no one on the east side has that. And since my truck's been in the shop, I had to hitch a ride down here, and the guy actually had the _nerve_ to drop me off seven blocks away! It wasn't all bad through, I mean, I was sweatin' worse than a whore in church, but I was able to snag an apple from a fruit stand."

Bee came up and playfully slapped my upper arm. "Maybe you shouldn't've worn a black shirt," she chastised, and I had to smile.

"Maybe not, but it was clean, so..." I threw my hands up. "It's okay. Hey, I could hear you playing that piano of yours from outside. You sound good, ya know! I felt bad interruptin', but there was something I wanted to talk about with you."

Something changed in her face. And not just that the second I'd said that, she'd become white as a sheet. No, there was something else there, but she was guarding it – keeping it close to her chest. "You want something to drink, Two-Bit?" she asked instead, obviously trying to hide something. But I just nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds real good. Thanks, Honey Bee."

While the view from behind as she ducked into the icebox and poured a couple glasses of iced tea was something I'd much rather be drinking in, she was acting so funny that she was starting to worry me. "You okay, Bridget?" I asked. She really looked like she was about to be sick or somethin'. "You look kinda...peaked." Bee nodded.

"Yeah, yeah I am," she assured, attempting to wave off my worry. "Let's...let's just go outside, huh? C'mon."

I followed her outside and we sat on the porch steps together. She was just holding her glass, not drinking anything, just staring straight ahead at something I couldn't see. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been acting kinda weird."

"I'm fine," she insisted.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Two-Bit. I'm fine."

No, she wasn't. That was a blatant lie, and I knew it. But sometimes, you just gotta let Bee sit with things for a little while, and she'll come clean all on her own. So we just sat there together, drinking iced tea on a hot day.

And then all of a sudden, she set her glass down and shot up off the steps and walked off into the grass. I noticed she was barefoot. Bee looked like a little kid standing there in her bare feet with her hands tucked under her chin.

"Bee?"

She didn't say anything, so I stood up and went to stand beside her, really starting to worry now. I really didn't know how much drama I could stand anymore.

"I think a pool would be nice," she said, her voice even sounding scared and young. "Especially since it's already getting so hot. Plus, we wouldn't have to drive to the country club anymore. We could have parties and use it whenever we wanted."

"Yeah. You could. Look, Bridget, I wanted to talk..."

"Don't say any _more!_ " she cut in, whipping around and facing me. "Don't! I know what you're gonna say. You're gonna say how you _really wish_ things could work out, but that's not how it's supposed to work. Lemme tell you something, Two-Bit Mathews - you don't just _come over here_ , stand out on _my_ _back porch_ in nice jeans and try to soften the blow. Seeing you makes it worse. Why couldn't you just _disappear_ like any other person would?"

Disappear? And go where? I mean, it was real obvious to me just then that Bridget had never been in a _real_ relationship with a guy before. I mean, I guess there was a time when she thought she loved Jerry Thompson, same way I guess there was a time where Kathy and I _did_ love each other. But that was so long ago now, I can't remember the last time I looked at Kathy and thought I loved her. But Bridget? She and Jerry had got on real good. And we'd broken up with these people we thought we were in love with to try something out that could be too good to be true. But they would have been the safe choice, and where's the fun in that, huh?

She was staring down at the ground, like she just couldn't bear to look me in the eyes, and I understand why, I guess. She was scared. But she couldn't just go around telling me what I would and wouldn't be doing. Haven't we had enough of that? Haven't we had enough of people telling us who we are and what we're s'posed to do and who we're s'posed to be? I won't even take it from _her_ anymore, and I _like_ her. "Bridget," I whispered. "Lemme tell you somethin'- no one goes around puttin' words into my mouth, ya hear? I bet you'll be real surprised to learn that I actually came over here for a completely different reason than to rip you into a million tiny pieces."

She just stared at me. "Well. What's your reason then?" she asked. I frowned at her, a little pissed off.

"Just to see you! I didn't know that was a federal offense."

The expression on her face changed instantly. "It – it isn't. I'm real glad you came, Two-Bit. I, uh. I wouldn't want anyone else with me right now. I'm – I'm sorry."

That made me smile for real, man. You don't even know. "It's nice to hear something positive comin' outta you for a change," I laughed. "Well, since that's all sorted out now, I guess I'll head out then."

I turned to leave, kinda hoping she'd follow.

"Wait!" she called. Bingo. "Wait, Two-Bit."

I stopped walking and turned to look at her. "What?" I asked.

"You really have to leave? I mean...do you really have to go, Two-Bit?"

I mean, I didn't really _have_ to. And trust me – I really considered just staying there. I could've stayed there all day and all night. We could've just stared at each other all night and I would've been happy. But… "Yeah, I do," I said, sill kinda regretting it. "I promised my Ma I'd be home for dinner, then Pone and I were gonna go do somethin, I dunno what yet, but I promised. And I'mma man of my word." Bee nodded like she understood, and she probably did, but she still looked disappointed. Which I guess is a good thing. "Hey," I said, tilting her chin up. "Just 'cause I can't stay now don't mean we can't figure something out later. We've got the whole summer to get together."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart."

I kissed her cheek, hoping that would say everything I couldn't just then, and then I turned to leave. But I guess I still wanted to get the last word in cuz I turned around and called, "Hey, Bridget!"

"Yeah?" she called back.

"I'm free tomorrow, ya know. That's what I came over to tell ya. So, uh, be ready – early."

(Not to spoil anything, but I figured you might like to know that she was already sitting on her porch, all dolled up and ready, when I showed up the next morning.)

XXXXX

Like I'd promised, I was home for dinner. I'd spent the day with Ponyboy, walking around town and screwing off. He was still stunned by the fact that I'd passed junior year. Hell, so was I. But I had reason to now. When I got home, Sadie was already sitting at the kitchen table, and Ma was at the stove, cookin' something up. Sadie smiled when she saw me.

"You made it," she said, sounding a bit surprised.

"I promised, didn't I?" I asked, sitting next to her, instead of in my usual spot. "How was your day, girly-girl?"

"Good. Janie took me to the pool. I got a few weird looks, though."

"Prolly cuz you're lily-white, girly."

"Well, it was fine. No one cared."

"Good."

"Where have you been all day, Keith?" Mom asked, setting a timer and sliding into a seat next to Sadie.

I shrugged. "Tooled around town with Ponyboy."

"He's good?"

"Yep. Doin' better. Lot better."

"And they still keep their door unlocked?"

I smirked. "Yeah, Ma. And I don't think you're gonna get Darry to change that."

Mom didn't look happy about it, but she just sighed and nodded her head. "But where did you go this morning?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"I heard you leaving the house this morning. Where did you go?"

 _Ugh_. There's nothing more awkward than talking to your mother about your love life – especially with your kid sister in the room, both of them watching you all expectantly and shit. I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms across my chest. "It was nothin' important."

"Yeah, _right_ ," Sadie rolled her eyes. "You're never up that early."

I shrugged. "It was nothin' – just this gal –"

"A _girl?_ " My mother asked, suddenly a lot more interested, leaning forward on her arm and making all these _interested_ noises. "Not that Kathy?"

" _No_ ," I sighed, and both Mom and Sadie started nodding.

"I didn't like her," Sadie told me, something I already knew. I rolled my eyes.

"I know, Sadie."

"Then what is her name?" Mom asked. "Do I know her?"

This was starting to sound a lot like a conversation we'd had last fall. "No," I said again, "you don't. Her name's Bridget Stevens and she lives over on the West side."

Sadie's mouth fell open a bit. " _Really?_ " She asked. "Janie went to go see her in that play! She said she was real good."

"Yeah, she is," I said, my voice soft.

"And she said she was pretty," Sadie added shyly, smiling. I rolled my eyes again.

"I _guess_ ," I grumbled, not wanting to look at either of them, not wanting to be at that _table_ anymore. I've never felt self-conscious talking about a girl before. And I think Mom caught on to that because she made Sadie leave me alone the rest of dinner, but Mom kept at me afterwards, cornering me with a huge grin on her face. "You're _really_ seeing this girl?" She asked, keeping her voice quiet. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, Ma, I am," I told her. "What, you don't believe me?"

"No, no, no! I believe you. I believe you, honey. I do. I do."

She patted my chest and left me alone after that. But I didn't know what to do with myself. I could've headed back over to the Curtis', or dragged Steve outta the house and just go cruising. But none of that sounded very appealing at the moment. 'Sides – had to be up early in the next morning. And things were different now. They were all still my buddies. And prolly always would be. But a lot had changed in the past year. Jumping into a car together and cruising around town wasn't the same without Johnny and Dally. It wasn't even the same without Darry. But that was okay. Things were different, and we were different, but that was cool.

I got the idea smoking, which is when a lot of my best ideas come to me, if you didn't know. It was almost full dark out, just a line of yellow on the horizon, when I remembered that both of us had phones. I wasn't gonna just show up at her place right now, not when her father was probably home. But I couldn't stop thinking about her, so I did the next best thing. I dialed her number and pulled the cord out as far as it could go so I could be out back and away from prying eyes and ears. It picked up on the second ring.

"Hello, Bridget Stevens speaking."

"Hey, Bee."

I swear, I could _hear_ her smiling.

XXXXX

 **AN: The epilogues will be out sometime next week, hopefully early. But I'd like to thank you all again for your continued reads and support. One chapter to go. If you have thoughts, be sure to let me know, especially since we're coming to the end! I'd love to hear any predictions!**


	25. Epilogue

**Author's Note: Welcome to the epilogue! I couldn't very well leave you guys at the end of this story without giving you an idea of what exactly happens to Bee and Two-Bit. I've seen their future so clearly for so long that I think I owe it to you all to give you a peek. And it's a doozy of a peek – so strap in, folks.**

 **Happy reading :)**

XXXXX

 _1972_

I could hardly believe it when I saw her.

I'd just gotten off work. For the time being, I was bartending at this sorta nice joint, and I gotta say, it was becoming a bit of a talent. I could make a mean Manhattan, I'll tell ya what, and I'll leave it at that. It was a Sunday night, one where I was gonna have dinner with Mom and Sadie, and I was stopped in at the grocery store before I headed over to Mom's place. Thought maybe she'd like a bottle of wine or something. Something special for Sadie, too, so she wouldn't feel left out – she was a real goody two-shoes, so no drinking for her. Maybe it was in part because she and Ma had moved to a better neighborhood. Better influences than I had, and all. But it was more than that. I knew it. Sadie and I…we're different. I like her the way she is, though, and I think, sometimes, she still looks up to me. Just a bit. Like she did when she was a little kid.

Anyways.

I'm in the grocery store, trying to find a nice-but-cheap wine, when she passes me by. And I couldn't mistake that hair for anybody else. Big, black, shiny curls clouded around her head. I whipped around, watched her from a distance as she stood in front of the butcher's case. She turned, and even from where I stood, I could see – yep. That unmistakable little gap between her front two teeth. My heart was pounding a mile a minute by then. It was her. Forget the wine – it was _her_. So I did what any normal idiot would do and walked right up to her.

"Bee Stevens, my, _my,_ " I breathed, loud enough she could hear. She looked over her shoulder and stared at me, and if I wasn't sure it was her before, I was sure now. Those green eyes had done me in six years ago. They were ingrained into the back of my skull. It was her, alright. She slowly smiled.

"Hey, Two-Bit. How are you?" She asked, sounding genuinely curious, maybe even happy to see me.

"I'm good! God, you look…you look beautiful, Bee."

And she did. She _always_ did. Her hair, her eyes, her everything. The powder blue dress she had on fit her perfectly. And she was still the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. The girl who had loved me enough four years ago to allow herself to lose her virginity to me. And I know it was with love when, three years ago, she broke it off. (I'll explain – later.) I don't doubt that. Not for a second. I hadn't met a girl in three years that I loved more than her. So I foolishly waited, and maybe this was the universe finally delivering for me.

"Thank you," she whispered, blushing. "You don't look half bad yourself."

I shrugged, trying to seem bashful. "Yeah, guess so. Thanks. So, uh, what brings you to town?"

She shrugged. "Well, I just graduated and all, so I thought…ya know, maybe I'd come back. See Dad and Viviane. At the very least, spend the summer before I get out there and really look for work."

"You're lookin' to work?" I asked.

"Of course. What else?"

I shifted awkwardly on my feet. "Well. Just – not that you can't! – I just…well, I figured maybe you had a _new beau_ or something, and, ya know…"

"I was just gonna be his little woman, wait on him hand and foot, something like that?" She finished for me.

I ducked my head in shame. "Sounds pretty bad when you put it like that."

She surprised me by laughing. "It's okay, Two-Bit. Really."

"I'm sorry for even _suggesting –_ "

Bee held up a hand. "Seriously, Two-Bit. It's alright. Uh, there isn't anybody. I'm not with anybody." She giggled. "Well, Vivi keeps trying to set me up with guys, but I can't say she's exactly been successful."

That was a relief to hear. You don't know the half of it.

"Then, uh, tomorrow, mind if I stop by your place? 'Round six? We could get a drink or something. Catch up."

God, her smile could light up any room. "I'd _love_ that."

XXXXX

"So what have you been up to lately?"

Bee shrugged. "Well, I finished up at Julliard at the beginning of May. Decided I needed a bit of a break before looking for work because the audition process is _exhausting_. Feels like that's all I've been doing for the past few years, ya know?" She ran a finger around the rim of her glass, and she couldn't look me in the eye. "And then right after I graduated, my father had a heart attack – out of the blue, ya know? He and Viviane came to my graduation, and he had it almost as soon as he got home. He's better, but he's still almost completely bedridden. It was pretty bad." She shrugged again, and opened her mouth like she was going to say something else, but she didn't.

"Sorry to hear that," I said sincerely, to fill the space. "If I'd have known – "

"It's okay. You didn't. And he's alright. He is!" She said, like she was really trying to convince herself. "But that's part of why I came home, too. To be with him." Bee cleared her throat, and I noticed her eyes had gotten a bit red around the rims. "What about you, huh?"

"Oh, not much," I admitted. I rubbed the back of my head. "I've been boppin' around ever since I got back. But it's been good. Mom and Sadie are good, and the guys. Or – better, at least. A lot better."

Bee's face had gone a bit dark. "How are Steve and Sodapop, anyways?"

I sighed. "Like I said – a lot better. Steve had the worst go of it between the three of us. And I was already home by the time he got sent up. And you know how it was with Soda – two weeks after he turns eighteen…"

"I remember," Bee cut in. "Yeah, I remember that. But they're home now."

" _Right_ ," I drawled. "But it ain't exactly easy, gettin' back in the swing of things."

We let the statement settle between us. The bar was nicer than the ones me and my buddies usually haunted. Classy joint for a classy gal. Classy-ish. It was a bit dark, and most of the light came from the glow behind the bar. Maybe if I'd wanted to see her better, we shouldn't have stuck ourselves in a corner. But her lily-white skin almost glowed in the dim lighting.

"I'm sorry, Two-Bit," she sighed. "I really am sorry."

"For what?" I asked softly, knowing what she was getting at.

"For being too scared. When I heard you were going over there…I was too scared to think about what would happen if I lost you. It was easier for me to cut ties. And hell – I almost _did_ lose you."

She was referring to the bullet wound in my stomach. Yep. That fuckin' Gook almost got me. I remember all the blood pouring out of me, I remember passing out there thinkin' I was gonna die and how that was just _beyond_ fucked up, and I remember waking up in a field hospital with stitches where the bullet had hit me. And then they'd sent me home and gave me a Purple Heart. And now there was a scar. Bee was right all those years ago – 'Nam _was_ a stupid war. I almost died, Soda almost died, Steve almost died, and for what? Soda was doing better, and Steve was doing better, too. Came home and did an assload of drugs, then one day showed up to Darry's house with his aviators on and a smile on his face and told us he'd found evidence of God in Miss Evelyn Martin and that was all there was to it. Seemed too simple. But that's what happened.

Ya know, I never saw any of this happening. Never even considered it.

"But you didn't," I said. "I'm still kickin'."

"Guess you are," she agreed softly. Bee shook her head. "Still doesn't excuse what I did. I should've just grown up. I'm not really good at any of this. Doing adult things. I'm so…so naïve, I guess. And I always have been. Probably always will be."

I smirked. "Well, that's what you've got me for, ain't it?"

It came out so easy.

"Do I really have you?" She asked, sounding hopeful. "Really?"

I held out my hands, with what I'm sure was a pretty wry look on my face. "If you'll have me."

Bridget's eyes filled with shiny tears, but she was smiling. I don't know – or, didn't know then – why she started to cry.

XXXXX

That was a good summer.

It was so _easy_. Long drives. Long talks. A lot of stupid jokes on my end. A lot of stories. Three years apart, with hardly a word in that time, builds up. Things you want to say, always wanted to say, things that occurred to you when it was too late – I think all of that came out. The last time I had seen her, she'd been Miss Prim-and-Proper. Now, she wanted to follow the Grateful Dead. Last time she'd seen me, my draft letter hadn't come in the mail yet. I could only hope I wasn't a totally different guy.

One night, we were sitting in the spot where she'd told me about her mother having left her. It was an outlook looking over the entire city. And it was like that night in a lot of ways – the two of us, sitting on the hood of my car, just watching the world go by. Just existing. Not saying much. I wasn't chewing tobacco this time around, but I had a smoke.

"Tell me about Vietnam," she said softly, out of the blue.

I blew out a stream of smoke. "What's to tell? It was wet and it rained a lot and there was a lot of walking."

"Oh, c'mon. There's gotta be more to it than that. What was it really like over there? What was it like being so far from home?"

I sighed. "Well, it ain't exactly the kind of world travelin' experience I'd want to have. I dunno. It was pretty, sometimes. The guys were okay. I dunno – think maybe I made the mistake of getting too close to some of 'em. Mostly, though, I missed it here. Missed the guys." I nudged her. "Missed you."

"Really?"

I nodded. "'Course. Hell, I think I've spent more time missin' you than I've spent time _with_ you. And I don't like that."

Bee shrugged. "We're together now."

I snickered. "Yeah – that's what you said last time. Before you left for school, remember?"

 _"_ _I got an audition with the school, Two-Bit. Mrs. White wrote me such a nice recommendation. This is something I have to do."_

 _I frowned. "Why can't you stay? I feel like you just got here."_

 _Her expression looked pained. "I can't pass this up. I…I want this. I do. And if I've got a chance at it, I'm going to take it."_

 _"_ _Well…then what happens to you an' me?" Because I knew that if she went to that audition, she'd get in. They'd be stupid to not let her into that school. "What happens when you move back to New York? I won't see you. You won't see me!"_

 _"_ _We'll write," she said. "And we can always pay for the long distance."_

 _I rolled my eyes. "That's pretty expensive, ya know."_

 _"_ _I know! But it's an option. We love each other, right?" I nodded. "So we're going to do everything in our power to make this work." She edged closed to me. We were sitting together on the loveseat in her pink, pink room. Her parents weren't home. Bee laid her head on my shoulder. "We're together now, ya know. Maybe…maybe we should take advantage of that, huh?"_

1969 had been her best year and my worst. She'd spent that summer watching the moon landing in her latest squeeze's apartment and traveling to Woodstock for three days of peace, love, and music. She ditched the sweaters and knee-length skirts and sensible dresses for peasant skirts and blouses and fringe; bell-bottoms and sandals instead of pedal-pushers and kitten heels. She'd grown her hair out even longer, let it grow wild and thick. She wore less makeup and more jewelry. She'd cried over losing Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin and the Beatles. She smoked pot and smiled easier. I'd spent that summer in basic, and then becoming the best shot in my unit. Was forced to trade in my rusty locks for a buzz cut and my blue jeans and cowboy boots for military fatigues. Got as muscular as Darry. Watched the moon landing with my unit and was jealous of all the thousands of people who got to see the Rolling Stones play live while also simultaneously running around naked. Probably should've died instead of the guy next to me, but I guess that's not my decision. And when I came home with a couple of medals, people thought I was some sort of hero. Then I grew my hair back out even longer and started wearing bell bottoms, too, and pretended like none of it ever happened. I floated around, finding odd jobs here and there and smiled at everybody I ever saw because it's what I had the strength to give them. I drank less and smoked more pot. And nearly every day, I read the last letter she'd ever sent me.

 _Two-Bit,_

 _I watch the news every night, you know. And I know what you're about to be getting yourself into. Well – I know it's not what you wanted. I know this isn't something you got yourself into – it's something you were forced into. And because you're braver than I am, you're going. And Steve and Sodapop – they're braver than I am, too. I don't know if any of this is right, but I know that all three of you are strong men that will do and have done everything in your power to not just stay alive, but help others. Because that's who you are. Because that's what Soda did when he was gone._

 _And that's why I have to write to you. Because I'm a coward. Because I'm scared, and always have been. Because I love you and couldn't stand to lose you. Because if anything happens, I'll be able to pretend I can hide from it. You may hate me for this – in fact, it would be easier if you did. I can't do this, Keith. I can't. I can't live with the thought that you'll be over there, and I'll be here, and that I won't even be able to drive to get to you. Or take a bus, or a train. My heart cannot follow you to that war-torn country. Though I know it will try._

 _I love you. I love you. Still. I told you that night behind the school, I told you that day on the football field, and I told you that night in my car. I showed you that night in my room. All of it was real. It still is, and likely always will be. But I can't do this right now. I can't._

 _I love you._

 _Bee_

"What about Vickie Harper?"

"Mm. She got married to George Washburn."

" _Really?_ "

"Really. Don't you keep up with these things?"

Bee sighed. It was late, the stars trying to come out, and we were walking around hand-in-hand. She was dressed like the hippie she was in a long-flowing tie-dye dress and white fringe vest. Her hair blew behind her and her green eyes were wide and bright. "Well, I'm still tight with Missy. And Cherry. And Marcia - to a bit of a lesser extent. But not Penny, really, and certainly not Vickie. What else you got?"

I thought about it, swinging our arms a bit. "Well, ya know Kathy? My ex?" She nodded. "She ran off with some guy from New Orleans, last I heard. Her old man wasn't too happy 'bout that 'cause he wasn't Baptist. Then Curly…well, Curly's in jail."

"Why?" She asked.

"Why else?"

"Oh," she whispered. "Wow."

"I know," I sighed.

"What about Jerry?"

" _Jerry Thompson_?" She nodded again. "Well, last I heard, he was in law school at Notre Dame. He'd been playing football there and decided to stay."

"That's what I'd heard."

"And let's see…I guess if you're in touch with Marcia, then you know she married that fella from Alabama. Came across that one in the paper."

Bee smiled. "Yeah, I knew. I was invited to the wedding, but I, uh…got busy," she admitted, probably leaving out a few naughty details. "Seems everyone we know is getting married. Funny, isn't it?"

Yeah. It was a real laugh. "You ever want to get married?" I asked. "To somebody?"

I could feel her eyes on me as we walked and I stared up at the sky. "Yeah, I would. Someday, to somebody. I just hope he knows who he is."

XXXXX

Darry whistled low. "Wow, Two-Bit."

I nodded my head slowly. "I _know_."

"That musta set ya back a pretty penny," Steve said. He motioned for the box and I handed it over.

"You're not wrong," I admitted. "But hell, it's worth it. You know how she is."

"Bit of a snob," Steve supplied, and I couldn't help but agree. "Quite the rock, Two-Bit. Hope she says yes."

"It's not _her_ I'm worried about sayin' yes – it's her father."

XXXXX

"Keith," her father began, and I shifted on my feet and shoved my hands in my pockets. I can't remember why I thought this was a good idea. Thom waved me further into his room. "Come here."

Well, I wasn't about to sit at his bedside, but I sure stood there good. "Yes, sir?"

"Bridget is my only daughter. Not only that, she's my only _child_."

"I know, sir."

"And for a long time, it was just the two of us."

"Yes, sir."

"And because of that, and because I'm her father, I like to think I know what's best for her."

"Of course, sir."

"I _want_ what's best for her."

"So do I, sir."

Mr. Stevens sighed. "I know that, Keith. I do. I just don't know if you'll be able to give that to her right now."

"So…no?"

"Yes. For now, my answer is no."

XXXXX

"Fuck that. If we wanna get engaged, we should get engaged."

I blinked. Did she really just say that? "You serious?"

Bee nodded. Stole a sip of my beer. "Of course I'm serious. I mean, it's real sweet of you that you asked him. My dad means a lot to me, but at the end of the day, it's not up to him. It's up to you" – she pointed to me, then back to herself – "and me. So, do you want to marry me?"

"Someday, yeah."

Bee shrugged. "So – ask me."

"Really?"

Bridget sighed. "Do I need to do it _for you?"_

Sometimes, I remember why my eighteen-year-old-self got so fed up with her. " _No,_ " I said petulantly. " _Jesus._ I'm a big boy! So – Bridget Stevens – do you want to marry me?"

Bee grinned slowly, and then leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Of course I do. Now – let's see this ring!"

XXXXX

 _1975_

"Two-Bit?"

"Yeah." Bridget blocked my path out the door. "What's all this for?"

"You have to marry me. As soon as possible."

I rolled my eyes. "And why's that?"

She shifted her weight and pursed her lips. I think she maybe even sized me up. "Because I'm _pregnant,_ that's why. And if you don't do right by me, my father will throw a conniption fit." She thought for another moment. "And so will I."

I sat down hard. Dammit, Keith. You keep a girl waiting three years…it's _bound_ to happen. "You're _pregnant?"_ I repeated. "You're sure?"

She nodded shyly, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. "Yeah, I'm sure. I went to the doctor Saturday." She sighed. "And I'm already two months along. I'm so _oblivious_."

Well – yeah. " _Hey_ ," I soothed, "it's okay. We'll…work around it," I shrugged, and she scowled. "We can just elope, ya know. Wouldn't be the end of the world."

"We can't," she said, shaking her head. "We already went behind my father's back to get engaged. He'd be _livid_ if we got married without him knowing. That's not going to work."

"Then what're we gonna do?"

Bee sighed. "We're gonna have to do it their way, I guess. Which means it's gonna take at _least_ a few months to put together, which means I'll be _huge_ by the time it actually happens, and I have to _call_ them -"

I smeared my hands down my face. This was the tricky part about marrying into a well-off family. It was their way or the highway. I stood, took her hand, and tilted her chin up so she was looking at me. "It's gonna work out, okay? And don't worry about bein' huge – I'm not gonna care. So fuck anyone who does."

She squeezed my hand. "You mean that?"

"'Course I do. Let's do this, kid. I wanna take care of you, do right by ya."

She teared up. "You _do."_

I laughed softly and pulled her to me, her tears getting my shirt wet. I was scared shitless, but I think, looking back on it now, that that was a good sign.

XXXXX

"I can't believe I was engaged to you for _three years_."

"Yeah, well, believe it, Honey Bee, cuz it's over now. Now get over here so I can get that dress off ya."

XXXXX

Bee was…pretty big at our wedding. And it's a good thing I took the heat for it because in her emotional state, I don't think she'd handle it well – she'd been real angry lately. Darry and Steve wouldn't let me hear the end of it, but Soda and Pony were a bit more forgiving – but that didn't mean they didn't join in on the ribbing a bit.

"Christ, Two-Bit – couldn't keep it in your pants, huh?" Steve snickered, as if Bee hadn't waited on me to get married for _three years_ and she was just some broad I'd knocked up.

Darry popped me in the arm. "Yeah, man. You gotta wrap it up."

"Aw, shuddup, Darry," Soda chided. "Remind me – how long after you and Jackie got hitched was Lee born?"

Darry blushed a deep, _deep_ red, and the four of us laughed at him. "Aw, Darry," I cooed. "One more thing my best man and I have in common – both our gals were knocked up at the wedding!"

"Don't say 'knocked up'," Pony sighed. "It sounds so vulgar."

We all rolled our eyes. Ever since that kid had gone to college (University of Chicago – "We're all _very_ proud," I'd told…well, just about every cashier and waitress from here to Manhattan), it was as if the pretentiousness had gone up to ten. Hell – past ten. More like eleven or twelve. But we took it in stride because what else were we s'posed to do?

"Fine. Indisposed," I allowed, and Pony just shook his head.

"Bless that girl for putting up with you," Steve grinned, and all anybody else could do was nod.

XXXXX

 _1977_

The first baby came without a hitch. Mary came into the world kicking and screaming four months after we were married, and for two years it was the three of us. And I liked it that way.

Yeah, well, seems that just when you're getting comfortable, the universe says _fuck you_ and decides to throw a wrench into things. I should know – I've had experience with this twisted sort of karma. But when I tell you that the wrench was another baby, you're probably gonna think I sound insensitive and that I should be glad for another kid running around the house – miracle of life, and all that shit.

Here's what I'll tell you: the night of my wedding, I got Ponyboy drunk. Absolutely _loaded_. And the kid turned out to be a sentimental drunk. So he made me promise him something.

 _"_ _If tha' baby's a boy," he slurred, "ya gotta name it Dallas."_

 _I almost spit out my own drink. "You want me to what?"_

 _"_ _Ya gotta name 'im Dallas. Honor the dead. An' I'll name mah kid Johnny," he said, and nodded as if it were a done deal. "We gotta do it, Two-Bit." He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me close to him. "We gotta honor the dead. And if yer baby ain't a boy, when ya do have one, ya gotta name him Dallas. And I'll name mah son Johnny. Got it? Promise?"_

 _I nodded, mostly to get him off my back and because this was a pretty dark topic. "Promise, kid."_

Bee had a notion that the baby was gonna be a girl. A collection of old wives' tales and similar experiences from carrying Mary. So I went along with it, let her decide on a name and everything. She wanted to name her Catherine or some shit. She made me paint one of the rooms of the house pink, like Mary's room. This gal was absolutely positive that our second baby was a girl.

And then she turned out to be a boy.

"We didn't pick out a name for a boy!" Bee grumbled, sounding pissed, but looking at our baby like he was the most precious thing in the world.

"I did," I said, lying on the couch with my eyes closed. The nurses and doctors were getting anxious - it had been two days and we still hadn't named this baby.

"You _what?_ "

"I have a name for him."

"What is it?"

I swallowed. Because I remembered. Because Pony made me promise – and he had a point. We had to honor the dead. Right?

"Dallas."

Bee's jaw dropped. And she looked beyond offended. I knew she hadn't liked Dallas. At all. Barely even knew 'im. But he had been my buddy. And I'd made a promise.

And I'm a man of my word.

XXXXX

 _1982_

I was willed a bar.

I know that sounds stupid, but it's true. And it's a long story that I'm not going to go into right now. Some other time. But it's just like _Cheers_ – everybody knows your name. Only problem with it is that I have to keep shitty hours. I don't know why Bee insists on waiting up for me, especially after the third kid, but she does.

Woman is still batshit crazy, just like she's always been.

"Do you ever _sleep?"_ I asked her as I came into the kitchen, where she was sitting at the table, not even with a cup of coffee. Just…awake.

"I catch a few hours here and there," she said loftily. "Lisa does a pretty good job of keeping me up."

"Yeah, I bet she does. You need to quit waitin' up for me."

"But I hardly see you," Bee sighed, running her nails along the grain of the table. "I don't mind, ya know. I sleep when the baby sleeps, when Mary and Dallas are at school. It works."

I grunted, but didn't say anything else about it. Just grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down with her. She _was_ right – we didn't see much of each other. Bee didn't exactly work anymore, but I did. And she was always finding a way to keep herself busy with _something_. So, no, we didn't see much of each other anymore. This was good, then. Because I guess this is just what happens. You grow up, you meet somebody, you marry them, you buy a house, you have kids, you raise those kids, you work, and then you die. Or some variation of that. I guess. It was all just really surreal and confusing, is all.

"How did we get here?" I asked, kinda out of the blue.

"Where?" Bee asked, not missing a beat.

" _Here_ ," I repeated, waving my arms for emphasis.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. "Bridget, sometimes, I _swear –_ I wanna know how we got _here_. In _this_ house, with _those_ kids. And _married_ , for Christ's sakes. Darling, I'm just a little confused about it all."

Bridget stared at me for a while. I could hear the kitchen lights buzzing in the dark and the fridge humming, could practically hear her _thinking_. "I don't know how to answer that."

"Sure you do," I said. "You have to. Because I don't."

She sighed. "That's like saying you forgot how we met. It's impossible. I'm sure you know as well as I do. Two-Bit, it's a little late to be getting this philosophical. I'm tired. Why is it that you always come home like this?"

"I can't help it if those barflies talk to me – and I can't help what they talk _about_. They just get me thinkin', is all."

"Well, alright. You do remember how we met, don't you? God, it wasn't _that_ long ago. Or – was it?"

I laughed. "Naw, it wasn't that long ago. And I do. First day of school, 1966. You sat right in front of me."

Bee shook her head. " _No,_ you sat behind _me._ I clearly remember being there first."

"Are you serious? There was no way you got there before _I_ did – you didn't even know your way around the place!"

"Sorry, Two-Bit," she shrugged, "but that's what happened."

I wagged a finger in her face. "Uh- _uh_. That's how you _remember_ it. That don't mean that's how it happened."

"Then why is your version so much more believable? Huh?"

"Because I'm a damned good storyteller, that's why. And I remember everything. I'm surprised you even remember to get dressed some days."

"That has nothing to do with _memory_. I'm a busy woman. Not like anyone in this house would care if I walked around buck naked. Hell, Dallas would probably strip down with me, and it's not as if the baby cares."

"And neither do I," I sighed. "God. That was sixteen years ago."

"That we met?"

"Yeah."

It really _had_ been sixteen years. Was that possible? Did we really meet, fall in love, get married, and have three kids in that time? Did the Curtis parents die, Johnny and Dallas _die_ , me and Soda and Steve go to Vietnam, Pony graduate college, and a million other things in between happen in just _sixteen years?_ That didn't sound right.

"I remember that first day," Bee went on. "It sucked."

That startled a tired laugh out of me. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "Got lost right off the bat, didn't know a soul in the place, and then – of course – there was _you_."

 _"_ _You,_ " I repeated, mocking her disdainful tone. "There was you, too, ya know. Ain't like you didn't get on my nerves, too."

"At least I didn't go _tugging on your hair_."

"Not at that point, no."

"Jesus, Two-Bit."

I snickered, and she just rolled her eyes at me, like she always did, will continue to do until one of us dies. Hell, she'll still prolly be rolling her eyes at me _after_ I've died. And if there is such a thing as an afterlife, you can bet she'll be doin' it there, too. My truest talent: Exasperating Bridget Stevens since 1966.

"Do you ever think about it, though?" I asked. "When we met? How all of this is just _chance?_ It's all gone by so fast, I don't know how any of it happened."

"I think about it," Bee said. "I do. And yeah – it's strange sometimes, to look up and realize it's not the two of us anymore, that we're not in Tulsa anymore."

" _But how did it happen?"_ I asked again, smiling at her, teasing her, trying to get her to bite. Bee bit on her lip, like she was trying to hold something back, but she failed horribly – that sweet, gap-toothed grin never could resist meeting mine, not for long.

"Well," Bridget sighed. Maybe, after all these years together, after all these years of looking over this little detail about her, I had figured out what we had in common. And _no_ , it's not our love for our children or our _morals_ or whatever, even though those are fair game for people to recognize. No. No – Bridget Stevens is a storyteller, and so am I. Why do you think we've held you here for so long? We don't leave out details, no sirree, bub. Bee smiled at me, and there was the sixteen-year-old socialite I'd fallen in love with. But she was more than that. She was Bridget Stevens – the new girl in town with the scared look in her eye and slight shake in her voice; the girl who was naïve enough to believe problems could be solved with the snap of the fingers. But she was also Bee Stevens – the young woman who had gone off into the world on her own and lost her slightly chilly reserve, went to Woodstock and let her hair hang down. And then she was Bridget _Mathews_ – the woman who was crazy enough to decide to stick it out with me; a woman who had cut her hair a little shorter and had grounded herself a bit.

And I loved all of them.

"I think the best place to start this story would be at the beginning."

XXXXX

 ** _THE END_**

 **Author's Note: Well, well. Finally wrapped this up! Wanted to tell you guys a few things -**

 **Bridget came to me as a character in 2012, right after I had read this book in school. If you've read the final author's note in** ** _Don't Think Twice,_** **you already know that she was originally going to be paired with Sodapop (and I think you can find notes of that pairing in these two stories, so sorry if you were somehow pulling for that!), but I discovered that Soda seemed to get a lot of OC attention, and it was Two-Bit who eventually won me over.**

 **The first version of the Bridget/Two-Bit story was published in 2012 and 2013, but I didn't have the time to give it the attention and detail it needed, so I removed the story and did a complete overhaul, and I'm much happier with the second product. Then, I attempted some sequels, but they didn't completely satisfy me. It was then that Two-Bit seemed to want to start telling** ** _his_** **side of the story, and it took a long time to completely overhaul the story** ** _again_** **, this time in a completely different perspective, creating new events to surround two pre-existing stories and then re-write pre-existing events from different perspectives. Also, Life. That was a thing that sometimes got in the way, not in a bad way, but in an annoying way that made it hard to get any writing done!**

 **If you haven't figured it out by now,** ** _Don't Think Twice_** **and this story are Bridget and Two-Bit's telling of the events of the year they met, and the last line of** ** _this_** **story is the** ** _first_** **line of** ** _Don't Think Twice._** **So we've come full circle!**

 **A lot of other characters here have stories, I'm sure. Dallas Mathews seems to be wanting to step up to the plate and tell his next, but we'll see. In the meantime, look out for me with updates, and maybe some shorter stuff in the future to satisfy your Bridget/Two-Bit needs, or maybe I'll even dabble with some other characters (a Miss Vickie Harper, perhaps?). Maybe I'll put out a poll.**

 **Thank you all so much for reading these stories, and sticking with me over the years. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all the support! Writing these for you has been an absolute delight.**

 **'** **Til next time,**

 **Abby**


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